


N024: Prince of the Sea

by Rhion



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: A.U, Adventure, Alternate Universe, D/s, F/M, Het, Kink, Light Angst, dub-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-13 20:14:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 38,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2163744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhion/pseuds/Rhion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caspian X, a captain of Telmar, a man who was orphaned by fate, unaware of his heritage, and uncaring of anything beyond the thrill of the sale, and the joyful abandon of life at sea, was a man without root, cause, or care. His only worries beyond seeing to his family ship <i>La Ysobel</i> and his crew, was fending off the frequent thefts from his uncle, Miraz. An annoying rivalry that added a bit of spice to the young man's life, nothing more. It was during a retaliatory raid that an intriguing acquisition came into his hands...</p><p>Unlike anyone else alive, she was rare, curious, and a prize without compare. </p><p>Three Pevensies may have been brought to defeat the White Witch, but the fourth was sent forward to ensure the security of Aslan's people. </p><p>[Rework of <a href="https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4474388/1/Prince-of-the-Sea">Prince of the Sea</a>]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dream, Nightmare, Salvation

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I’ve done my best to get ahold of Autumnspice, and have kinda failed to find her (not for lack of trying, omg you wouldn’t believe the nutty stuff I’ve done) which sucks. I was a crappy friend towards the end, ignoring most folks, etc, due to various issues. And then I went years without trying to drop a line to anyone. Because of that, I’ve lost contact with Ash, Autumnspice, Blackcat, ClaireLaguna, and Em(eraldteardrops), as well as numerous others. (Really, if I tried to list them all, I’d be at this all day.) If, for some reason, any of them stumble across this, for love of all that’s unholy, contact me if you feel like it. (My emails are unchanged and still easily found on my profile. I am nothing if not consistent when it comes to that.)
> 
> That all being said, while the original _Prince of the Sea_ idea came from Autumnspice and she did the main chunk of writing for it, I did a lot of the ‘musing’ so to speak, until the last two chapters where I had a much heavier hand in participation. I think of this story overall as a joint effort between she and I, and while I’d prefer to do this with her direct blessings, it’s still a story that’s been bugging me to be told...so...I’m telling it. Originally PotS was just a bunch of PWP strung together around a loose plot, and then it began evolving, at least in my head it did. Even back then I was having big ideas for it, that’s where _Kitty Kitty_ sprang from, there was so much more, but that’s all lost now, buried in the old hard drives of dead laptops holding YahooMessenger conversations. So, to cut my rambling short(er), without further ado...

Susan awoke from her languor on a beach. A _beach_ of all things. That should be terribly surprising, yet she found that she oddly didn’t care overmuch. Wait - was it odd that she didn’t care? Susan blinked out at the vision of pristine powdery golden white sand, turquoise waters lapping and crashing in foamy splashes, while the sky overhead was a deeper, brighter shade of cerulean, almost holding a touch of green. Sky and sea could have been transposed and it would make equal sense... Sweet, salty breeze tickled along her cheeks, and Susan laughed...no, she didn’t care, and she forgot all reason to be worried or taken aback from her present place.

With a dancing laugh, Susan tugged off her sensible school shoes and her dreary grey socks, giggling in the shade of the broad leaf palm, and raced off to skip over the beach. Nary a shell jabbed her, not until she got closer to the spray of water, where she took steps that lilted foot to foot, as though she were in a ballet on a stage made of jeweled sand, waves of powdered sapphires, and a ceiling of blown silk, cotton clouds hovering above. And the crushed, partially broken, and scattered shells beneath her tender feet didn’t pain her, acting only as loose pebbles beneath her wriggling toes as the wind and spray of water partnered her in the dance that gave thanks to being alive for no other reason than that the day was beautiful. 

Forgetting shoes and socks behind her, Susan cavorted, the wind alternating in strength, its fingers playfully tugging at her businesslike braid, her red woolen blazer and the pleated grey skirt. When the blazer became too much, that too was discarded without thought, another bouncing laugh bubbling free, carried with the song of gulls. A fleeting thought came as she halted, leaning down to pick up a very pretty shell, one large enough to put to her ear as she scanned her surroundings, everything inside buoyant. Never in her life had Susan felt so content to live in the moment, and there was a faint niggle that perhaps it was odd, but there was a faerie song in the shell at her ear, urging her to continue. Waves caressed and kissed her feet, ankles and calves, a few splutters daringly touching above her knees time to time like an impolite gentleman caller who wasn’t much of a gentleman at all. 

Nose crinkling, Susan smiled at the tree line not so far from her and the waves while she was carried forth on light feet, each foot raised high above the sand before it slid back down in the air, bringing her another step forward. Really, she probably should do something like find civilization. The sun moved through the sky overhead, and she traveled the opposite direction, a mirror of the disc’s own dance in the heavens. Becoming sleepy after a time, Susan bid adieu to her partner of the waves, leaning down far enough, moving in deeper, so that it could stroke and fondle her thighs as she gave it an intimate caress of her own, fingers dragging through the water a last time as she slid free of the water’s eager and longing embrace.

A little nap couldn’t hurt, and whatever those distant mutters in the wind were, weren’t any concern. Besides, she would close her eyes just for a minute or two, the day _was_ awfully warm after all. Surprisingly comfortable, the knobby, pokey roots that humped up from one of the grand palms only looked terribly troublesome. Instead, like the sand, the beach, the wind, and the waves, the roots embraced Susan in a loving cocoon, encouraging her to be at ease. It would just be a few minutes, really, nothing to think over too hard...

\--

Miraz scowled at the island. He had thoroughly walked it, comparing it to maps he had... _acquired_ over the years, and many he had made himself. The island was small, verdant, but small. It being so thoroughly covered in greenery is what interested him - amongst other things - because that meant freshwater, and knowing just where to acquire more of that was always a boon in these...troubled times.

Scratching the great pointed and sculpted jut of his purest ebony beard, Miraz squinted at the copse of trees once more, displeased. So far he hadn’t found any water at all. Which was infuriating, because he had _seen_ his beloved nephew Caspian send out dinghies with sailors and casks once when passing by the island a few seasons back. Now, unless his idiot of a nephew had buried treasure on the island, then water or some other supply would have been the reason for the casks. And while Miraz had nothing but contempt for Caspian as a weakling and a thousand times a fool ( _almost_ as bad as Miraz’s elder brother Sebastian, pox take the dead fop), Caspian could be counted on being villainously cagey when it came to his resources. From booty, to cargo, to sentimental objects d'arte, to supplies for his ship, Caspian hoarded it like a miserly dragon guarding its cache.

The last was a pleasant thought, and Miraz smirked, once more scratching at his beard before smoothing and tugging it straight. For Caspian was a dragon that was easily bypassed by Miraz, all his guards and watching useless against Miraz’s greater wit and might, and he had dipped frequently into his blighted nephew’s hoard. He chose not to think of just how often the brat would return and reclaim whatever Miraz had taken, or over the fact that the brat frequently stole with deft purpose and then further, with more interest than a moneylender.

His thoughts were interrupted by Julio as he walked, “Aie! Capitan, take a look at this!” Miraz raised a brow high upon his forehead as he caught sight of an odd lump that the squat, ebony haired sailor was pointing at. The man’s eyesight was sharper than Miraz’s and so he opted to at least entertain that the Telmarine’s assessment may be correct, “Capitan, _puta bonita_ \- what we should do with her?”

Moving close enough to inspect what had washed upon the small shores of the island, a glint entered his eye. Even if she weren’t fresh and attractive as she had turned out to be, the ship could do with a cunt or two around for awhile. At least one that no one would miss, or brothel owners wouldn’t demand repayment for the damaged goods that usually were left behind after shore leave. That this one should clean up quite nicely was a particularly good thing. 

Ordering with dark good humour, a flick of the backs of his fingers towards her, “Tie her up, return her to my ship and have her prepared for my use.”

\---

Susan’s limbs hurt, cramping and tight from whatever awkward position she was in. Unlike the pleasant sensation of her last awakening, Susan felt queasy, and the sounds were different than they had been on the beach. Snapping, creaking, and a slap of water against something hard and unyielding - wood? - and the rolling, growling of what became voices - all these were registered along with her discomfort. Gradually she pried her lids open to look around, in some attempt to understand. 

The deck of a ship spanned beyond her legs, and men clad in lackadaisical mismatched variety scurried this way and that. 

What followed directly after that observation - ship, bound to mast, men, wind, sky - wasn’t something Susan had ever thought to experience in her life. Like the joyful, dream like experience of the beach, the ship was blackest nightmare, all on a backdrop of sumptuous sky. A sky that held that loveliest of suns, a golden orb that had warmed instead turned to baking Susan, cut and shaded by the shadows cast by the twin masts. Words, sharp and grating like the blades of a spice mill, slapped, grabbed and tore at her, along with hands striking her flesh just so, dark red, blue, and blackened browned bruises blooming ugliness over her. Clothes ripped and torn away, replaced by others, useless other scraps, words barely making sense to her as her senses swam this way and that. She was to be used, that was made clear, but somehow it never happened, for the moment she was being dealt with her daily ‘preparation’ of physical blows that were to somehow make her more attractive to them - cramps tore through her and a wash of blood had spread down her thighs. 

The bizarre, trollish little demonic creature, Gethin, that came no higher than her hip, had been the only one to not recoil in absolute disgust as her monthly hit. It had resulted in the nightmare of being tied to the mast again. Food and foul tasting water or ale or _something_ disgusting, was forced upon her during rare times, as she drifted in the blurring, numbing nightmare. It was food and liquid at least, though much of her wished to void all of it, and whenever the end results of a meal were made by her body’s necessity, Susan had the contents stinging salt water filled buckets thrown over her, sluicing all waste away. By the time Susan thought she _may_ be hearing the sound of other ships, or more people, just...anything, she was dazed to the point of wishing for any sort of release from the hempen manacles of this swirling madhouse nightmare.

\---

Merikesh, one of the larger ports of Calormen, was a place of many markets, guildhalls, and plenty of ill-repute. Like most of Calormen, actually. Life was cheap, luxuries were abundant, and Calormen was one of the most populous nations of the world, with its towns, cities, massive plantations all clinging carefully to freshwater sources, vast reservoirs and cisterns that collected every precious drop of rain water. The enclaves clinging to the sea shores, had special processing vats that removed the salt from the water, the separated salt set aside, the evaporated water that collected on the sloping lids of those vats gathered the fresh water anew, all installed by Telmarine engineers for hefty recompense... Nomadic traders moved goods along the routes that weren’t paved, as roads didn’t last long in much of Calormen, for the earth erased them in a handful of seasons, sometimes even weeks. Not even the well known technological works of Telmar’s finest engineers and architects could make Calormen easier to travel. (But Telmar’s engineers _had_ contributed vastly to Calormen’s ability to reliably water fields. Crank shafts - handy things. And the coasts should all sing praises for the desalination tanks which separated both precious resources for human need.) 

Inaccurate and constantly changing census estimates stated that almost seventy-percent of the population lived in towns and cities rather than farms which was a flip compared to a nation like...Archenland. Or Galma. The Lone Islands. Only Telmar was close to claiming most of their residents to be in towns or cities - but Telmar was a nation of sailors, engineers, shipwrights, and scientists, which prevented population hubs from feeling crowded. For the more agrarian places, their largest urban areas felt woefully empty and small. But Calormen? Oh, Calormen it was _crowded_ and every step reminded visitors that elbow room was at a premium, any visitor - first time, or their hundredth time - would know that they were one of hundreds, thousands, and in one or two of the grandest cities, hundreds of thousands, of people crammed into small spaces. It was dehumanizing, awe inspiring, or just an annoyance by turns.

Due to that population density, coupled with the extreme weather that in the interior or anywhere away from rivers and coasts, usually meant debilitating heat with murderous winds, Calormen had gotten very good at building for their needs. Not that the coasts or rivers had it easy either - cyclones and floods were frequent enough guests that even those things affected how everything was done. And this was to make _no_ mention of the earthshakes that happened every handful of years. Because of this, most buildings were three to four stories high, made from reinforced and super packed earth, then slathered in waterproof plasters that prevented even acts of the wildest natures from washing away or breaking down the buildings. Only acts of man put much of a dent in such structures within any reasonable amount of time. 

Not that Merikesh’s buildings _towered_ though. At least not so far from warehouses, the entrance gates to the city, Raj Merikesh’s palace, major guildhalls and others of the grand edifices that proclaimed ‘importance’ and ‘riches’, firmly putting folks in their places. No, away from those places, Merikesh did not _soar_ , instead it stepped. A cascade of simple blocks, as though the packed earthen and plaster buildings were smooth edged crates. Haphazard streets, sometimes thick swaths that allowed four wagons abreast to trundle over the composite concrete roads (at least _inside_ population centers the coin paid to Telmar’s designers and engineers for good roads had managed to take) that could narrow down suddenly to barely six feet wide. 

While Merikesh on the whole didn’t soar, it did throw back electric blue trims and saffron doors or shutters across windows, stark contrast to the painfully glaring white of the plastered walls. And the people, the merchants, the darting, dirty urchins, the riot of robes, saris, and a thousand other modes of dress that had been unchanged but for what kinds of colours were in fashion, which materials, or which patterns were woven into the fabric - these too were layers of complexity to stun the senses compared to the pristine glimmer of limestone plaster. Stalls hugged walls or crowded the center, blocking traffic, merchants who couldn’t afford an easily broken down stall, or a cart, instead sat upon blankets, their goods spread all around. Navigating through such places was second nature, a twist of hips and shoulders as he threaded his way between those in his path, Caspian bypassed a pickpocket - and snagged a fat purse from a decently well off looking Calormene man who seemed to be slumming today. Long fingers fished through the pouch and he reflexively weighed out the coins, wending his way as nimbly through the mass as he would steer _Ysobel_ through well known waters. 

Calormenes weren’t as tall as those of Telmar, and so he topped most of those around him by half a head in very many cases, and some, even more, but many of the men wore various kinds of headgear that made up for it (though for some no amount could help them, as Calormenes were still a damn sight shorter than Telmarines and Caspian was, himself, tall for one at several inches over six feet), as he slipped through, easily stepped around, and just moved alongside long enough to continue his path. Height, the lack of head covering upon his own crown, his shaggy brown hair lifting in the breeze he generated and the one coming off the ocean - these things made him clearly marked as a man of Telmar. To say nothing of his dress; worn oxblood dyed drake leather fencing trousers and vest over his faded linen shirt all being something no sane Calormene would wear. Caspian didn’t care, it didn’t really affect him, and besides, it provided at least a bit of protection if someone was fool enough to try and stick a knife in him. Which was an actual concern as he was working his way towards the western docks after he had received a message from an old acquaintance who owed him. 

The drone of voices, street performers, jugglers, snake charmers and charlatan magicians, the din blended with squawking fowl, gulls circling high overhead, and if Caspian hadn’t been moving along with a specific purpose, the music of the city would be something to enjoy. As it was, it was almost as pleasant as _Ysobel’s_ song as she rocked and creaked in the water - he may have been born at sea, raised there, and lived on the water for almost the entire span of his life, but Caspian still found cities had their own allure. In manageable doses, and he did like horses... _those_ weren’t any good on a ship, so it was only upon land that he was able to indulge in that particular joy.

 _Except it would be nice if they actually dredged and cleaned the docks more frequently,_ Caspian grimaced as he got slapped in the face with one of the unpleasant facts of ports outside of Telmar. Almost all of the bloody major ports had proper skimming and dredging equipment, but they didn’t _use_ it frequently enough. (And in the case of a few ports he frequented, they appeared to think once a year was good enough. How anyone could live that way... _Damned land-bound townies._ )

Between a pair of blocky Calormene buildings, straight through the narrowed street to the dock, Caspian spied a clear look of a familiar ship. _Cyclone_ , originally her name had been _Windswept_ when Caspian’s grandfather, and namesake, had commissioned the ship to be built so that Miraz would not feel slighted and left out of the family business. There was bad blood of some sort that had occurred though, Caspian didn’t know all the details, nor did he care one whit, his gaze narrowed as he watched the sailors moving about for several minutes, estimating how recently they had arrived. Miraz had taken up the family business, certainly, oh yes, as well as piracy against their family allies’ ships. It had been a great disgrace, so much so that Miraz had been disowned... That was the extent of what Caspian was aware of about the situation that may as well have been ancient history written in a dead tongue. 

Releasing a few soft curses, Caspian turned, and left, not wanting to be spied by any of his uncle’s men. As he left, he snagged a few pieces of fruit and dropped the pilfered coins from earlier in the hands of a few urchins, while a grin lifted his features, the curses falling away. Miraz wouldn’t know what hit him... Really, if Caspian didn’t have the utmost respect for a properly built ship of Telmar, he would have sunk _Cyclone_ years ago... It was time to scheme at least, and he had things to recover anyway - _surely_ his beloved uncle Miraz wouldn’t begrudge a few liberties...

\---

Calormene robe, burnoose, and _keffiyeh_ masked Caspian and a handful of his finest crew in the joyhouse that so many of Miraz’s men were currently living up their shore leave at. Beside him in the raucaus, cheap whorehouse cum pub and other mixed services that drunken sailors with coin to spend needed, Trumpkin sat pounding back a fifth ale. Dancers who may have had a bit more to them in terms of looks once upon a time, jiggled and flowed with barely a hint of verve for their task. 

Poorly lit, little clay bowls with wicks floating in oil dotted various low tables, their threadbare versions of the stools Calormenes favoured filled by patrons of varying degrees of inebriation, some of the whores on offer hanging off of the customers. It was a joyhouse like a thousand others, in a dozen other ports all around the longest swath of Calormen’s northern coast. There was no stage for the prostitutes to dance upon, just a bit of cleared space between the bar and stairs that led up to the cubby bunks where the sailors could fuck or sleep. 

Caspian counted as another of Miraz’s crew hauled off two weary, drunken whores, a satisfied smile lifted the corner of his mouth as he chucked back another shot of rum. Only two more, and then they too were gone. Coin was left behind, as he and his men slipped away to meet up with the other five of his marines that were waiting patiently in the alley leading to _Cyclone’s_ berth, and a large rented wagon to be loaded up with whatever they claimed from Miraz’s ship. They made little effort to hide themselves once outdoors, taking the paths and weaving through the side streets to the docks. While there were few people out and about so late in the night, as most of those on leave were well ensconced in their chosen bit of fun, sneaking tended to draw attention. And there _was_ attention to draw - like the constables who kept an eye on the docks. The prearranged distraction not so far distant came, grabbing the eyes and interest of those Caspian didn’t want to take note.

His pilfered disguise from earlier was stuffed in a barrel to retrieve on the way back - or discard, it wasn’t important - and Caspian lept the distance from the dock to catch hold of one of the long ropes securing _Cyclone_. The sailors left on watch to _Cyclone_ were dispatched, already deeply on their way to full on intoxication, there was only a harsh, jerking twitch as Caspian slinked up behind one, hand coming around to grasp a grizzled jaw while he slid his poignard at an angle deep into the sailor’s chest. A gurgling whined grunt accompanied a flail and the watchman was dead. The signal of a hawk’s cry had the others coming, the wheels of the wagon creaking over the wood of the quay amongst the night time slapping shudder of water on hulls, snaps of riggings, and the occasional distant wail of revelry hailing from other blocks. 

By the light of stars and moon, watchmen’s lanterns, and a few hanging about the nearest ships, his men set to work, and Caspian ducked towards his uncle’s cabin. Feet tangling up, Caspian began to overcompensate, yet there was a startled, frightened and pained kicking that ruined his attempts and he went down. Pain lanced up through his elbow as he landed, a harsh ‘omph!’ ejecting from him, followed by a snarl as a foot connected with his hip, and he was rolling away fast, barely taking another kick, this one to the family jewels. It still landed with enough force to elicit a growl as he rolled to his knees. The blob at the base of the mast resolved quickly, as it had blended in with the lashed barrels, and he snorted. 

A thin, raggedly dressed - if a ratty, tattered, grimy tunic counted as being clothed - form with long spills of hair, was lashed to the mast’s base, just as the barrels were. So, Miraz had a woman. Not for long, they never lasted long, Caspian had seen the ruined husks that barely breathed more than once when raiding _Cyclone_ on more than one occasion. They tended to be much farther gone than this one, and he felt a smile being born. Oh, he didn’t particularly care that he was saving a life, it was more the fact that he was robbing Miraz of his fun, the spared life was incidental. 

Huffing a chuckle out softly, Caspian slapped at the legs that flailed at him, “Here now, _chica_ , you keep fighting like that, and you can await Miraz’s return in the morning.” She stopped, the evening’s light reflecting queerly in her eyes, “A return that will show many of his crew dead, and his most expensive items taken. Aye, he will be displeased, and you would make a fine target to vent to.” He had her attention as she went completely still, and Caspian crab walked closer, hands going to the ropes that bound her, “Be nice to me and not fight, and you will be far better off than remaining where you are. _Comprende_?”

Susan was terrified as the looming shape had resolved, her mind that had been filled with the swimming, swarming dizzy of nightmare receded enough for her to hear and understand what the thickly accented voice was saying. It was a soft tenor, spoken from the roof of the mouth, like a choirboy’s almost, or someone else accustomed to singing in the upper ranges, a voice that could easily carry clearly and far, or drop impressively low to carry to just one or two sets of ears. But that voice was offering her the one thing her frantic animal instincts had been begging for since the world had gone to nightmare: escape.

Shivering, she nodded, hoping he saw it, not daring to think about what the price for her escape would be. 

Caspian grunted at her nod, though he had been planning on just knocking her out and tossing her in the wagon if it came to that. Knots that had been in place too long reluctantly gave up their hold, and then he was hauling her up, but she couldn’t stand right, legs going out from her and he caught her with another grunt. She wasn’t struggling however, just a whimper.

Yanking on her, his arm went around her waist, hand tugging at the scraps she wore, “This is all you have?”

Another nod, and he hissed his irritation, but Trumpkin had come up close, signalling they had gained everything small enough to take away (which was often an indication of actual value) and the woman tried to recoil, lurching away from him bodily upon seeing the Red Dwarf. Raising a brow, _Apparently Gethin has made her acquaintance._ Miraz’s pet Black Dwarf was a nasty piece of work, and would definitely explain the girl’s reaction to Trumpkin. That she wasn’t in even worse condition meant that the Narnian had gone easy on her for some reason, either that or she was a _very_ fresh acquisition. No matter though. Getting a good hold on her again, Caspian made a face, it was time for him to go. His men would make a few more trips, they couldn’t take everything of course, but they would take everything remotely possible. He had buyers already arranged earlier during the day for most anything he acquired (or in some cases _reclaimed_ ) this evening.

Susan stumbled awkwardly, her legs barely working as the rangy man hauled her along bodily, and she couldn’t help but wonder numbly what would become of her now.

\---

Over the last five years - ever since Caspian had won a few bids on cargo that Miraz had been vying for - Miraz had targeted _La Ysobel_ for his frequent thefts. Of course there were many other ships that Miraz went after, easy marks at the many ports, it was just that Caspian was targeted the most. As a result, he had begun to combat that by having a larger crew, upping it from thirty to forty-five, and always left at least fifteen men behind at any given point, all armed to the teeth, and any on watch were banned from more than the allotted drink - he wanted them alert. It did cut into his profits, but business was good, thanks to his connections both within and outside of Telmar. Really, it wasn’t so bad, he didn’t have a household or a family to take care of, it was, in essence, just himself, _Ysobel_ and his crew, the thrill of the sale, the joy of the wind in his lungs, the hunt of a bargain, and best of all? The exhilaration of the occasional sea battle. A way of life that was really just one long game, a series of compounding experiences, it meant his profits were important, but not the difference between life and death. Certainly it made him...reckless according to some, but what of it? In spite of his lacking the patronship of a true family, lacking even a proper filial surname since castoffs like himself that had rejected mandatory time in the actual navy as well as abandoning his very first assignment (no matter that he’d been a recently orphaned child under duress), making him a man without root - in spite of all those failings, Caspian was well off enough, even by Telmar’s standards. 

Connections were a _very_ valuable thing.

Merikesh didn’t have quite the same connections as some of his other ports of call, but there were enough for him to quickly divest himself of excess merchandise that would result from tonight’s payback. And he could think of at least one decent place to drop off the chit stumbling beside him. Maybe not a joyhouse, maybe one of the spas or bathhouses. Caspian had that much mercy for a girl that had been Miraz’s guest.

Susan stumbled and chewed at the gag still in her mouth, her hands too busy trying to hang onto the sailor - captain? soldier? - that was absconding with her, for much needed support. Her legs were jelly, the paths hard, and his stride was long, so that every few steps she twisted her ankle. At least until an irritated sound came, and everything swam before she was unceremoniously thrown over a broad shoulder like a sack of potatoes. It may have spared her feet, but it did little for her stomach, which was empty of everything save for knots of stress and remaining fear, hunger was in there too, but she couldn’t think about that. 

Losing sense of time beyond the constant rocking of shoulder embedded in her gut, Susan’s gaze became well acquainted with the shadowed vision of long legs devouring the mix of cobbles and wood, bypassed crates, barrels, and piles of rope, as the man carted her about. Her world narrowed down to that, to keeping a grip on the lean waist in a reverse hold around his torso, as the jerking that came originally from her arms hanging free had pained her already over extended shoulders. When she had done that, there had been a brief pause in the long strides, and she was shifted back farther, so that the sinewy arm was hooked over her legs and his shoulder no longer ground itself into her belly and instead she was balanced on the space just at her thighs’ thickest point, but not yet turned to hip. 

Then everything changed, boots struck gangplank, and then deck, one arm snaked out to grab a lantern beside a door that was quickly opened. Wooden deck became rug covered for several steps before the lantern was set down on something, casting light over the green and white woven rug and she was unceremoniously roll-flipped down to the ground, strong hands holding her elbows to keep her upright. Swaying as blood that had been in her head rushed this way and that, Susan swooned some, eyes rolling to the ceiling not so very high overhead, beautifully carved beams holding the deck above. Head lolling to the side as she tried to regain her bearings, Susan found herself shuffle-swayed to a leatherbound low chest and plunked down on it. Panting, she scrambled her fingers against the thick forearms, head hanging, and so that all she saw was worn, undyed suede stuffed into boots that reached midcalf, all of it an innocuous rough honey brown that clung to the lean limbs. 

Caspian spared a few more moments to at least make sure the girl wouldn’t be losing her stomach contents, nor fouling his bed, helping her lay across his footlocker trunk. With a sniff, he removed the dirty gag, “Someone will come to clean you up, do not bother trying to go anywhere - you will not get far and will just make a mess.”

With that, he left to search through the incoming items from Miraz’s ship. From crate to crate, bag to bag, barrel to barrel, Caspian searched, cursing quietly to himself in a litany of every language (no matter how uncommon that language had become in the last several centuries) that he knew. Hands dug and delved into contents, a lantern at his elbow every shuffling, crab walking inch of the way, as he searched with single-minded determination. Because it wasn’t the contents of his hold that Miraz loved to pilfer ever so much, but the most precious of things Caspian owned. Mother’s dwarven made jewelbox that Father had given her as a courting gift, filled with her favourite necklace of rubies and sapphires with the matching hairpins and earrings, and a handful of other baubles she had worn the most often. It was a box that also contained the hairpin a five year old Caspian had purchased for her birthingday one year. It had been her favourite, worn no matter how chintzy and gaudy it had been, and he could clearly see her sitting at her embroidery, the brass and paste gem stick holding her matte ebony waves in place. Buried amongst green, unroasted coffee beans, Caspian found the purple heartwood box, and he nearly crowed over the success. Not long after that, wrapped in precious drake hides that Caspian had purchased in Archenland, was Father’s sword, Rhindon, with its lion’s head pommel, and crimson sheath. The well tooled swordbelt was there, even the wickedly long main gauche - yes, his father’s weapons, ones that had belonged to Grandfather as well. Miraz would have always wanted them, and during the last time Miraz had succeeded in raiding _Ysobel_ , the precious items had been nabbed. 

Really, Caspian knew he should lock away his few family items in one of the vast banks of Telmar, he just couldn’t bring himself to. He was a sentimental sort, and longed to keep the trophies of his parents close. Bundling all of that together, Caspian’s face and bearing was an impervious mask, unwilling to give away just how important these trinkets were to him. But if any of his sailors had noticed that it was a search undertaken at least half the time when sorting through the results of a retaliatory raid on _Cyclone_ all were wise enough to not speak of ti. And that was if any of them noticed, and if they noticed then they were shirking their duties and not paying sufficient attention to their tasks.

A lanky Badger was waiting for his acknowledgement, Diggit, the ship’s cook looked up at him with intelligent, shining eyes, “Sir? The girl’s been cleaned up as you requested, and her hurts salved.”

With a nod and a grunt, “Very good, Diggit. That will be all.”

Swiftly Caspian returned to his cabin, taking the short stairs from the hold to the main deck in a rapid tattoo of practiced ease. The safety and ease of his cramped cabin attained shortly, Caspian released a relieved sigh, working on removing his boots with stepping and toeing until they were off and his toes scrunched along the old rug he had played on in his childhood. Sentimental as he was, Caspian hadn’t been able to bear the sight of the family sized cabin of his childhood, having put in partitions, filling those easily removed walls with shelves or hidden closets for smuggled goods, breaking up the space and shuffling it all around. Here, Caspian had been a joyful boy, scooting and playing on the rug, beside the desk Mother often sat at, going over the businesses that Father owned, or in the shadow of the charting table - these pieces of furniture were still present, comfortably affixed to the deck. 

Key retrieved from his desk, the footlocker was opened, and Caspian carefully put away his most precious of possessions, almost or equal in value to him as the priceless lifeline, safehouse, and succor of _Ysobel_ , and he spared another moment of thought for his parents. That two people so vivacious and loving could be taken from the world, leaving their only child - himself - to the mercies of fate, was something fit for some sort of tragic comedy. That the child would grow into himself was a curious thing - would his parents be proud or disappointed in him? What did it matter in the end, because regardless of whatever they would have wanted, he was a man grown. A man grown with a woman for the night, a hold full of goods to sell, and those were the important matters in life. And if that woman laying in his bed cleaned up well enough, maybe he would keep her. Otherwise, he could sell her to Niab, who may put her in a joyhouse, but more likely (if he told the man that Caspian had taken her from Miraz) put her to work in something a little less like that. Yes, that bit of thought was a nodding concession to what his long departed parents would probably have wished he do and in line to the earlier thought of small mercy he could grant her.

Satisfied by all that, Caspian dropped the key into the milky green soapstone jar atop his desk that it belonged in, and went about undressing for the night. Sword and belt hung from the back of his desk’s chair, clothes tossed to the side, and he went to his washbasin, chewing on a sprig of tooth cleansing stick. Cleaning off the worst of the day’s sweat, the bit of blood that remained on his hands scrubbed free, and he was done. His beard could wait until the morning, he was too tired to bother with what would have to be scraped off again after a few hours of sleep anyway. 

Checking his bed where the lump of girl was under the pair of light sheets, wild chestnut hair spread over the pillow, an amazingly pale arm atop the yellow cotton sheet was an astonishing contrast to the dark hair. Faded bruises marred the limb, and there was pink from sun exposure, but she didn’t look too damaged at all. Was Miraz getting soft, or had she managed to avoid a great deal? The barrels, mast and the shadow of the sails would have protected her from a decent amount of sun, but beatings should have left her worse off. Shrugging that away, Caspian sat on the side of his bed which was tucked up against the bulkhead, and he flicked one of the faintly curling strands from her face. A face which revealed itself to be rather...intriguing. Lips of the fullest pink, a little divot in her chin, rounded apple cheeks, and a nose that should have been a bit too large, but fit her face, all dusted with little freckles of pale brown, she was fetching. Downright beautiful, actually. Maybe he _would_ keep her around - her looks were certainly alluring enough for that alone... Well, if she were a decent bedmate, that would increase the likelihood, and someone that pretty should know her way about, he would know shortly and make his decision in a day or two after trying her out thoroughly. Caspian believed in being well informed about his investments, even if he frequently went with his gut.

Susan continued feigning sleep. The strange talking badger from earlier had to have been a hallucination, no matter how chatty and gentle it had been, helping her get clean, using a large washing pan of warm water, then slathering her in salves and unguents from head to toe that had tingled, making much of the pain of bruises fade. Diggit it had said its name was, amongst other things, saying the man who had brought her here wasn’t going to hurt her, and to just relax when it came time. Susan repressed a shudder, rolling away with a sleepy mumble from the startlingly gentle hand that was trailing over her cheek, still pretending her unawake state. Yes, she had known somehow that this was what she was using to bargain with - her body - to win any chance of escaping the hell she had been trapped in, but there was something inherently _wrong_ with that. Still...survival was survival. If she could just put the required payment off... No, she would do what she had to, not think about it, not dwell, she would concentrate on survival.

There was another dip, the bed shifting and the man - captain, he had to be to have such a nice cabin - rose, and the single lantern lighting the room was snuffed. The remaining light that came, entered through high port windows and the ones from the very back end of the ship, and it wasn’t all that much, leaving everything colourless shades of black and grey. And then the sheets were being lifted, the long form entering the embrace of the bed, an arm slipping around her, the broad palmed hand pressing on her belly, and making her roll back over with a firm touch.

“You can sleep afterwards,” came the accented statement, revealing that he knew she had been faking. “I am tired as well, so it will not take long.”

Caspian felt her shiver again as she lay back, her hands grasping the bottom sheet, and there was a parting of her legs. It was all the permission he required before his hand was moving to the thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs, testing her as he pressed close, ready to move in swiftly as soon as she was wet enough. Yet there was tightness meeting his touch, an extreme amount of it actually, and she was stiff as a board, unmoving though her legs were fairly open. 

Frowning in the dark, “No need to be so stiff, you should know what this entails already.”

Susan made herself speak as she tried to ignore the touch of calloused fingers in places where only her own had ever been, “I’ve - I’ve never done this actually.”

Instantly the touch ceased, an incredulous sound coming, “You _must_ be joking.”

“N-no,” she shook her head. Gritting her teeth, Susan admitted further, “Only fallen women lay with men who aren’t their husbands.”

There was a scoff and she could hear him licking something then there were moistened fingers returning to her sex. "All people are fallen. Relax, this will not be bad, I can do that much.”

Susan hadn’t meant to suck in a breath like that when the flickering tickle turned just right, but she did and then there was the wet sensation of a mouth on her neck, the hard line of body against her side. A tremor rocked through her, and Susan’s hand reflexively grabbed as her thighs parted farther, calloused fingertips stroking and rubbing along her ridge with lightning fast strikes and feathering, barely there pressure, travelling up and down from the deeper moisture of her entrance and back up. But it was the explosive heat in her hand that had her swallowing nervously, not that she could think for long as a curling digit delved into her body, thumb rolling and maintaining the pace. Coiling heat built in little sparkling shivers, as Susan panted pressing herself into the hand pleasuring her, and when the wash of climax struck a keen was released.

Caspian wiggled his finger in her sex, it was still too tight, wet as she was, and he let out a growl in the side of her throat. _Fucking virgins,_ dissatisfied, he continued, aware she would need more before he could gain anything for himself. But the low sound, his leg sliding over her nearest one, pinning her open as he arched against her side, had the girl moaning, hips rolling up at the stimulation. It took forever, but several releases later, with her moaning piteously, he deemed her loose enough to accommodate without pain - discomfort probably, but not pain - and was already fairly far gone himself. It was nothing but a rolling shift for him to fit his hips between her spread thighs, and when he moved to kiss those plump lips he had admired earlier, there came a very definite no matter how quiet... _snore_. 

Cursing, Caspian tapped her shoulder firmly, “Hey - girl, what the -”

“Mmnfive mo’minutes,” mumbled along with a flailing backhand delivered without force, squirming to roll on her side. 

Taken aback, several more curses, a few pokes and a solid whack on her rump - nothing. She was out as much as a snuffed light, save for grumpy grumbles and a flailed hand or a fussy kick in his direction. Caspian rolled over, swearing a filthy stream of frustration to take care of his own needs. His orgasm struck and was wiped aside on her hip - she was convenient for that much at least, and he didn’t feel like being sticky himself, _Let her deal with it._

\---

Soft snuffling noises came from the vicinity of his neck as Caspian awoke curled on his side a warm weight snuggled against him. His arms were full of woman, fleshy curves tangled against him, a leg shoved between his and an arm wrapped over his side, breasts mashed against his chest. Rubbing the heel of his palm into his eyes, he awoke more then grimaced, remembering the evening’s prior dissatisfaction. With a grunt, Caspian wasn’t going to be put off this time - sleep and last night’s preparation should mean her body would only require minimal tending before he could get his _finally_. 

Fingers laced in the softness of her hair, Caspian did have to marvel at its texture, and then there was the stark paleness of her limbs tangled with his, revealed by morning’s light through the cabin’s windows. He hadn’t ever seen a mix quite like that before, it was an oddity he pondered over for a moment as his fingers found her core, stroking her body to wakefulness. For a moment the desire was there to pleasure her until she was scrabbling at him, because he was curious to see if she would blush and how far it would go on that pale flesh of hers. However, he had work to do today, and other than a good morning orgasm, he wasn’t really in the mood to mess around. Still, he wanted to see her brown eyes, see how clear they were, what shade they might be.

Susan rolled, squirming, legs parting as wet heat tingled, sending bolts that pushed her to wakefulness, and suddenly she saw coal black eyes there, watching her, and that was all she could see. “Wha-” the question came but so did the memory along with the thumb rubbing at her. 

Caspian sucked in an awed breath as her eyes fluttered open, and then she was under him, his hips arching against her, pinning her body with his weight. Her long lashes had fluttered, lids closing, and he ordered her huskily, wanting to know if he had somehow hallucinated what he had seen, “Open your eyes, girl.”

Susan hadn’t ever heard a tone like that and her lids snapped open, uncertain of where her hands were to go as he arched over her in the most impossibly awkward seeming fashion. “Umn...”

A hand went between them and Susan felt something hard pressing at her that wasn’t anywhere approaching the size of his fingers, it was larger, much larger, and blunt, making Susan suck in a deep breath as inexorable force pressed her open in rocking thrusts. Not knowing where to look as the rocking and strange invasion began, Susan saw those broad shoulders that had carried her, compact and long muscles over them, scars and a mole below a collarbone - then she couldn’t think for a moment, hands curling over biceps as lips were on hers. The kiss was searing, the lunges changed to long grinding bucks, and she gasped at that, at the pressure and stretching, the tongue filling her mouth, licking at her own tongue, and then there came a growl, rough jerking that left her whimpering. It wasn’t painful, it wasn’t comfortable either, it felt good and it felt strange, then she was left empty as his hips pulled away from her.

Enormous blue eyes, stark in their silver tinted hue, with darker flecks of deep turquoise, stared at him as he pulled free. Caspian had gotten what he wanted out of the morning encounter, and that was good enough. He spared a moment to look at her curiously, not wanting to reveal his fascination with the contrast - _never_ had he seen that mix. Never. The dark hair with the fair skin was improbable enough as it was, but the eyes? Curling his hand along the side of her neck, he rubbed at her jaw briefly as he rolled to sit up. She could be ugly as sin, and with that colouration, she would fetch utterly absurd prices probably. But she was attractive, and that got him to thinking as she stared at him in confusion. 

With a grunt, he rose to dress - there were things to think about, and far too much work to do, to waste staring at a girl.


	2. Chapter 2

Susan rolled around in the bed, torn. The space between her thighs ached, not from pain, but from incomplete pleasure, and she had been left to deal with the mess that remained leaking from her body. After several minutes, Susan finally rose and went to the funny little chest with the lid on it that Diggit had said was a commode to make use of it. Put out, she grimaced at the cabin. Pale woods mixed with dark, strange insets here and there that were shockingly purple in a way that didn’t look painted or dyed, and the cabin was fairly small really. It meant the ornamentation was overwhelming, and it held her attention for some time as she wandered slowly, feet scuffing along on the tightly woven oriental rug covered in geometric designs straight out of Arabian Nights. Pausing long enough to make use of the washbasin, removing any remaining evidence of what had been done, Susan frowned at her reflection in the mirror that hung over it. 

The bruises that should be mottling and ruining her were healing at an improbable rate, but her eyes seemed sunken, the wear of her time on Miraz’s ship clear on her features. She looked older than her seventeen years by far, worn and fatigued, and Susan hung her head, gripping the washstand for a moment, shuddering. Her memories of the endless time on the ship were black and blurry, and she knew without a doubt that if she concentrated, she would remember far, far too much. Ugly words, blows, being spit upon, threats - Susan knew those things were there. Yet even attempting to dig further, left her empty stomach flip-flopping in terror, and Susan repressed another shudder. They hadn’t raped her, passed her around, done despicably evil things to her...not yet, that is. If she had stayed any longer, she knew, without any shred of doubt, that those things and a plethora of others that she had no name for, couldn’t even conceive of, would have been delivered to her at their leisure.

With a shudder, Susan hugged herself, feeling hollow inside. 

Exhausted suddenly, she turned from the face in the mirror, needing to escape it, and the knowledge of what coin she had used to barter to win a path away from that fate. Susan stumbled to the bed, bumping against the armless chair at the large desk, clinging to it for a moment, before she regained enough equilibrium to get to the bed. Collapsing into the blessed softness, Susan fell into a dreamless sleep.

Caspian had spent a long morning pushing hard to get rid of the excess stolen from Miraz, and had made some headway on what was in his hold that needed to go to his usual customers. That, and there was a great deal of correspondence that he had picked up at his prior ports of call to drop off in Merikesh, all of which netted him a tidy sum. While running mail wasn’t particularly interesting, Caspian had long since found it to be lucrative, as many Telmarine captains believed it beneath them. While returning from those errands, he had paused long enough to pick up a blue dress that caught his eye, it wasn’t like he had anything he was willing to dress his acquisition in, and it should do. And it would probably smooth the way between them further, because, while she hadn’t resisted his advances, there had been pretty obvious displeasure at the entire situation both last night ( _in spite_ of him doing a more than admirable job of pleasuring her) and this morning. 

She was a queer creature - _A virgin, well, formerly, at her age? Late teens perhaps? How novel_ \- and he wondered just how she had come to be in Miraz’s possession. There was something bewitching about her beyond the colouration, it was more a look that had been in her eyes that made him feel strange. Possessive actually. Another pause, this time once he attained his ship, had him grabbing up a small tray from Diggit who had come above deck from the kitchen after having likely been dealing with the several hens and two nanny goats earlier that Caspian kept on the ship (his parents had always insisted upon that back when, and it was a habit he had maintained against all Telmarine wisdom, but it worked out well enough) with a small tray of sweet snacks. A dress and a plate of treats should begin the training of the girl, at least for the duration of however long he may keep her. Such creatures required coaxing and a steady hand before they learned, at least, the ones who weren’t simply broken to it. Bit like horses he supposed, a little extra time invested and some care, usually resulted in a much more faithful mount than one whose spirit was broken to the saddle. 

Entering his cabin, he saw her sleeping still, which had him raising a brow. More likely she was faking as she had last night. Not that it did anyone any good, it seemed stupid to him.

“The day is lovely,” he said going to his desk and setting the round, enameled wood tray down with an easy coiling roll of his wrist slipping it over the desk’s edge, while the dress was tossed over the back of the chair. “You should see it, get a bit of fresh air and sunlight.”

Susan had heard the steps approaching and the cabin’s door beginning to open, which led to her flopping down quickly, feigning sleep. But the captain’s words made it clear either he didn’t buy her act, or he didn’t care and expected her to wake at the sound of his voice. Truthfully, Susan was afraid of what was coming next. The sex aspect was disconcerting, but a vastly more horrifying thought had occurred to her earlier - she didn’t know where she was, what was going on, and the place she was in, was a place she had no protections or understanding of. If the captain was done with her and left her to her own devices, Susan was then completely, utterly helpless. Everything depended upon this man. 

Rolling over, making herself do so, Susan clung to the sheet, keeping it around her shoulders as she watched him turn the desk’s chair to face her. “Maybe, but I can’t. I’m not going out there naked.”

Long legs stretched out towards her, crossing at the ankles, and the captain leaned his rangy form back in the chair, fingers going to the material hung behind him, rubbing, “Then I suppose you do not want this dress?”

Caspian watched her muddle through things. Her gaze skittered from him, to his hand, then to the contents of his desk, whatever was going on in her head was difficult for him to suss out. Whatever her background, it wasn’t one Caspian had truck with, so with the colouring, it sort of threw him just enough to find reading her about as easy as seeing through brackish water. There was obvious discomfort, a dose of embarrassment (strangely enough on that count), and a slew of other things Caspian, as yet, couldn’t identify. While waiting for her to figure things out, Caspian wasn’t above giving a bit of a prod, and he selected a fat, dried date, and ate it with measured enjoyment, a pleased hum issued which had those bizarre eyes fixating on his face, chiefly his mouth, and he watched her swallow thickly through his lashes. 

Picking up another one, he held it out, and with his other hand, he patted his thigh, “Come, have a seat, and you can have one.”

 _That_ got a reaction. 

“ _No_ ,” succinct, her entire body twisting away, adamant. 

“Pity,” popping the chewy sweetness into his mouth with another audible groan, “these are better than the ones I usually come across.”

Susan shivered, his voice doing strange things and there was the knot of hunger in her belly too. Several long minutes passed as he continued eating in front of her, his dark gaze heavy, and she found that she wished to cry. She was so hungry, it was cruel that he sat there like so, watching her as a hawk did a hare, deciding whether it would stoop. And for some bizarre reason he wanted her to _sit in his lap_ \- what perverted game was he playing?

Shuddering, Susan was driven from the bed, the sheet clutched around her awkwardly, attempting some sort of modesty, and she approached, standing close to his feet. When he held out a dried piece of fruit out to her, Susan moved to take it, but he jerked it away, his hand patting his thigh as he straightened in the chair. However, she didn’t want to sit in his lap, not yet - probably not ever, even though she had the distinct feeling it would come down to it at some point. Loud gurgling came from her stomach, and Susan bit her lip, staring at the tray, twitching forward to curl around her noisy and cramped belly. 

The girl didn’t see his sympathetic wince at that. How many times had he gone hungry? She clearly never had, not with that flush of abiding shame, pain, and that forlorn expression. Someone familiar with it would have internalized that shame a good long while before. Taking pity, Caspian pressed the plate of fresh orange slices sprinkled with cinnamon and drizzled with rosewater and honey to her. Startled blue eyes swung up to meet his as her shaking hand that was awkwardly thrust out from the sheet she had wrapped herself in reached out to accept the plate. But that didn’t stop her from inhaling the snack with a speed that was painful to watch. 

Grimacing, Caspian shook his head, and went to call for something more substantial. Behind him, the girl was eating noisily, probably demolishing anything else she could grab from the tray while his back was turned. Because he must, Caspian turned back towards her, and then he couldn’t help an amused snort. She was hunched over his desk, tresses wild every which way, hunched over oddly to keep the sheet pinned around herself as she shoveled dried and fresh fruit into her mouth, until her cheeks were poofed out like a chipmunk he once recalled seeing in one of the orchards back in Telmar gorging on walnuts. 

Registering the sound of his amusement, Susan stiffened, shame rocking through her even more strongly than earlier embarrassment, to be caught eating like an animal, and she glanced up as he returned to the desk, long fingers trailing over its surface, and the loose, undyed linen shirt gaping at the neck as he sat back down. “I do not suppose my uncle fed you very well while you were his...guest.”

“Uncle?” Susan recoiled, shuffling backwards, but the man caught her wrist, drawing her to a halt.

“Relax, Miraz and I are not exactly bound by much filial piety,” he snorted. Once more, he patted his thigh, “Come, sit, actual food will arrive shortly, and I expect you to be here -” he tugged on her but Susan resisted, “if you want any of it. Stuffing yourself full of sweets will only give you a bellyache, even after the heavy sugars make you lose all of what you have stuffed it with. Then where would you be? Back at the beginning, a mess, and with an even worse belly.”

Stiffly Susan sat, the sheet wrapped around herself as tight as she could make it, her back straight as she perched on the captain’s thigh. When the enormous badger came, Susan stared - apparently he hadn’t been some strange hallucination brought about by fatigue, hysteria and delirium. A large tray was set down, round terracotta covered dishes clinked happily, and the smells emanating from them were potent, dizzingly so, with unidentified scents. Other, smaller dishes only large enough to fit a large chicken egg held little berry like things that were a mix of varying greens, browns and blacks, drenched in dried bits of herbs and some kind of pale yellow oil - _Olives!_ \- and some sort of odd clotted cream stuff in another little bowl. A tall vessel of glazed clay held something to drink, which was poured into a single cup, and Susan did her best to not lick her lips in hunger and thirst - the water from the pitcher that went to the washbasin had been salt water, which she had found out earlier that morning, which meant she had done without, aware that it would do more harm than good. After the badger left, Susan was tugged back, the chair scooted around, and the lids removed, and she watched how the man used his hand to feed himself. Doing her best to copy the motions, at first her only thought was _food_ and then - 

Choking as enormous burning heat exploded over her tongue, Susan scrambled, grabbing for the cup, coughing and sputtering, and downed the cup’s entire contents...which then had her gagging and staring at him in horror as the heat only increased.

And he was _laughing_.

“Oh my god, what the bloody hell?!” clutching at her throat, Susan waved at her mouth, tears leaving scalding tracks from her eyes.

By his forebears was she hilarious! Caspian shook with great belly laughs, pouring another measure of juice thinned rum while she panted, “By that reaction, I will also surmise you have never had a decent tasting meal in your whole life.”

“ _What did you give me?!_ ” she was croaking and squawking, blue eyes wide in horror. “It’s hot-hot, oh my god! Water! Oh god - water!”

He couldn’t stop laughing, and had to shift and switch so she was in the chair, and he called out an order to the nearest of his sailors outside his door requesting milk. Returning quickly in very good short order, a large carafe of it in hand and a second cup, he poured some for her, holding it out, snickering, “Milk will do you better, _chica_.”

The milk was downed in choking splutters, cup held in both hands, head tipped back, and Caspian raised a brow as the sheet pooled down around her waist as she forgot everything other than cooling her mouth. In the light of day, she certainly was well formed, a little unadorned, but still exquisite. Those breasts would amply fill his hands and had raspberry coloured nipples with large areolas begging to be sucked to erect nubs. Rubbing a hand from his chin down his neck speculatively, Caspian tugged off his shirt. It was late afternoon, and while there was other work to be done, there wasn’t anything wrong with putting it off for tomorrow, and he loosened the ties to his trews as well as kicked off his boots while she was absorbed. Tomorrow should be a lovely day too, he could do his business, and the task of preparing her to learn her role could be put off until then with no trouble at all...

Susan’s head swam as the outstretched arm snaked around her again, urging her up, and she grabbed hold of the desk’s edge, blinking, befuddled and then her rump was firmly planted once more in the long thighed lap. Hiccuping, she set to the food once more, staring at it and grabbing the nearest cup regularly. Sometimes it was thick and creamy, soothing as it went down, sometimes it was juice and sort of stinging, more blossoming heat spreading in her belly. 

The girl was sucking her fingers clean, rocking back in his arms to look at him, eyes astonishingly intense and innocent, even drunk and unable to mentally gather herself, everything else was focused directly on him, “Answers...I umn...I need answers.” Bottom lip nibbled and sucked on for a moment, her brows scrunching as she looked at him earnestly and ever so hopeful, “What did I need?”

“Answers,” Caspian supplied, distracting her from the food with a stroke of a finger over the fullness of her upper lip.

Rapid blinking, “Right! Answers - umn...who - who are you?”

“Caspian,” lips pressing themselves together tightly, he did his best to hold in his snickers, and licked his own fingers clean before wiping them thoroughly on his pants leg - wouldn’t want to burn her if she was _that_ sensitive to spices and peppers.

She looked around his cabin, a strange little chirpy... _meow_ issuing as she asked, fingers digging into some of the food which she then nibbled and licked from her hands, “Where are we?”

“On my ship, _Ysobel_ , and we are docked at Merikesh. It is a port on Calormen’s north eastern coast,” he said, hand slipping and rubbing over her belly to her thigh as she squirmed, distractedly. 

“What’s in the food?” lips puckered outwards, as she gazed at the plates, poking at a dish of roasted and spiced chickpeas she had almost demolished on her own then plucked up a vegetable stuffed date that had been baked. “It’s good after getting over the - umn, umn,” she stumbled, slurring, as her gaze swung down to her lap where he was massaging her core through the softness of the sheet. “Umn,” a hand pushed his away for a moment, before she forgot again. “Food - what’s...what’s in it. Good other than trying to kill me firey spicy hot.”

Disingenuously Caspian replied, “It is not poisoned, if that is what you are wondering. Nor is it drugged. It is merely properly flavoured.”

Holding up the clay cup of milk, she stared into it, eyes crossing, her other hand pushing absentmindedly yet again at his which had slipped into the sheet, searching out the moisture of her center, “What kind of milk’s this?”

“Goat,” he had to hold in another snicker as she squirmed, her upper lip sucked into her mouth as she sipped from the cup noisily, a giggle issuing from her as he found her clit. 

“G-goat, why g-goaaa - umn,” another squirm and the cup was set aside with the type of careful motions that the inebriated used when sort of aware of their state, so she could look down at his hand with a somewhat puzzled expression. 

Susan touched the thick corded forearm, trying to make sense of it as something coiled in skittering tingles, her hands curling around the rhythmically flexing tendons, on up to a long bicep that didn’t bulge massively, but wasn’t small either. Walk-patting up, swaying, until her hand was on a shoulder, she looked at the captain - _Caspian, sea? Caspian...right - got it!_ \- who was smiling in a funny way that made her laugh, legs kicking as she tipped backwards. Magically she was kept from falling over all the way, and she stared at him, unable to cease her giggles as her body felt warm, swimmy, and floaty all inside and outside.

“Oop!” nose crinkling at him. She needed answers to something important, oh yes, it was very important! Now - what was it? The smell of something tasty was in her nose as she was pulled closer, and Susan buried her face in the dark caramel throat, breathing in deep. “Why do you smell _so good_?” Attar of rose, jasmine, bay rum, clove, lime rinds, ambergris, myrrh and frankincense blended, filling Susan’s head with something utterly wonderful and musky. A funny sound rolled out from her and Susan licked the large vein there, “Why do you _smell so tasty_? Like Christmas pudding! Oh, no, no, sticky toffee with rum sauce too, right.”

Too tipsy to know just how personal the question was, Susan sniffed at him a few more times, arms squirming around his shoulders so she could rub her face into his shoulder before sucking on his throat. 

Caspian tipped his head, enjoying the girl’s attentions, a soft hiss escaping when her teeth dug in briefly while she growled and purred, arching against him like a feline. “Glad you enjoy it, I suppose.”

She stopped, remembering something, “Y-you’re not supposed to do that,” frowning at his hand where it was wedged between her sheet covered thighs. 

Nuzzling at the corner of her jaw, his arm tightening around her waist to keep her in place, “Do what?”

“Umn, forgot,” her laugh devolving into a sigh of delight, her increasing moisture coating his fingers. In his arms she arched, and Caspian watched the flush of more than just alcohol and spices spread over her, another of those odd trilling purrs spilling from her as his fingers rubbed and curled in her tight channel, “Oh! _That_ feels _really good_!”

Susan moaned as warm lips were on her ear, that accented and low voice pressing words into her head, “Does it now?” The world did another funny thing, and she felt herself wobbling to stand, and she tried to keep hold on the sheet but there was soft brown hair that looked nice to touch, and Caspian was making a very nice noise in his throat as she tangled her fingers there while she found herself back in his lap, facing him fully this time. “If you liked that, there is something even better and I may be persuaded to share it with you.”

Unable to take holding off for longer, Caspian carefully guided her to lean up, and he heard her feet searching for the purchase of the lower rungs of his chair. Breasts in his face, he tightened his arm around her waist to hold her up better because she was giggling into his hair, then looked at him with a shocked giggling coo of surprise as he urged her onto and down his cock slowly. Her sheath was still so incredibly tight that it was maddening, but the prior evening’s diligence, the morning’s intrusion, the loosening of muscles due to the rum...and the extra attention he’d paid her cunt, made the entire process more comfortable. And definitely not just for him, not with the panting and - _What the?_ Squirming, panting and moaning as her juices slicked them both had her slipping down, but it was the way she was pressing her face into his throat, breathing deep, licking, sucking and nipping that had Caspian feeling just slightly like a cat’s favourite hunted chew toy. _One stuffed with catnip._ Ragged nails bit the back of his shoulders, dragging and clawing up as she lolled backwards until he caught and yanked the strange girl back to him with a groan torn from him, and then hands were back in his hair.

All in all, not only did it feel amazing, but his acquisition was presenting a most enticing show. 

“Caa-Caspian,” funny nose scrunching up in that odd way, her eyes crinkled, shining at him in a most peculiar manner, but Caspian couldn’t look away as she licked her lip... Clearly she was beyond drunk, but even so, she was stunning instead of stupid or sloppy. Especially with that expression that he couldn’t look away from - no matter how afire his every nerve was. “Caaspian,” his name repeated in singsong, followed by more, in the same manner, “I don’t know what you’re do-ing, but do you _reaaaally_ think you’re supposed to be doing it? Because it feels so _good_...” Plump lips found his jaw, kissing him and he urged her to take more of his throbbing heat into her tightness, his own breathing gone ragged at the edges to his own ears, counterpointed by the wet suction of her lips kissing his cheek,“B-but I think you’re a _very_ naughty boy.” The whole thing was done with her shallow grinds and rocking, interspersed by long moans on her part as he struggled to not just grab her for more...and somehow she managed to feign innocence all at the same time. The girl’s spine arched, neck back, a sound of concerted enjoyment, and Caspian squeezed her round hips ready to search for a kiss - except she was already there, nuzzling his face with hers, panting, “Oh god that’s good.”

Susan couldn’t help it, those lips were tasty, that neck was tasty, and oh god what was happening and why was everything all molten, shivery? The room and her head spun in a lazy sway with every attempt she made at moving, yet that was a wonderful, wonderful thing. The captain’s mouth was strange, spiced, peppery, and what she had begun - _Wait, did I? Ohh heeey, that’s umn_ \- as wanting to touch those lips, had left her hungrier. Desperate, all through her limbs, the tightness increased, and she sucked the wet muscle of his tongue into her mouth, that growly, rumbly noise he made left Susan shuddering. Oh she needed to be so much closer! Caspian was doing something, touching her, and Susan was supposed to remember something about that, but all she could think of was how she was probably about to die in the most exquisite way possible and that if she somehow survived the endless tingling and wondrous cascade occurrence, she would have to wind up figuring out how to breathe once more. 

In his arms, in his lap, Caspian was certain the vixen was trying to kill him. Or devour him, either way, basically the same thing. Her hunger was apparent in everything, her touch, her soft body, there was strength in the legs that wrapped around not just his waist, but the chair’s back, the whimpering cries as her mouth opened to him...yet he found his own mouth the one ravished, snaking, sucking, and Caspian thought every moment would be the second he lost the fight to stall and withhold his load. And yet he couldn’t help but hold back, revelling in the untutored experience of the treasure he’d stolen out from under his uncle’s very nose. Fair retaliation for plundering his parents’ keepsakes. Caspian liked sex, he had as much of it as he could get, all kinds of it, and when he was at sea for longer periods, that didn’t stop him from pleasuring himself repeatedly throughout the day. He had needs. Desires. Hungers. Things that the whores he visited could do a good deal to slake, but even the ones who just really, truly, loved to screw, made demands. A trade of flesh and pleasure for pay and pleasure just couldn’t compare to the way the little minx was sharing her whole body all at once, her entire experience in that very moment on display and handed over to him. (Her pussy’s inability to take Caspians’ whole cock was a technicality, as that paled in comparison to the rest of what was happening.) There was absolutely no exchange of anything, it was sex, pure and simple, and it was entirely _shared_. 

All of it was something he was completely unfamiliar with, and what he felt with her was so good, so why let loose now? That was why Caspian held back, even as she lost her rhythm, her whine beseeching, pleading, begging, the garbled chant desperately aroused and almost pathetic. Caspian’s hold on her hips firmed, to ensure the movement that they both required like the gasps of air they both struggled and heaved to gain, and he bit his tongue. Pliant and embracing, her face was in his neck again, her every movement a boneless thrash to get closer as she whimpered how good his cock made her feel. Not in so many words, but Caspian couldn’t focus on individual ones, just the sucking kisses, the tone, the overall gist. 

Face flushed, fuck, every inch of her mad alabaster skin was flushed that he could see, on down to the sides of her calves, the little freckles brought into sharper prominence. Those soft hands of hers pet his chest and shoulders, his face, fingers tangling in his hair briefly, all to start over again. She had leaned back enough so that he could watch her impossibly exotic features run through a gamut of response to what his manhood inside her body did, and Caspian fought with himself, until her lashes fluttered wide, the most earnest, open look was in her eyes, her whole expression with raised brows and full lips parted on a shocked exhale, so innocent and filled with awe just as he watched her body attain its own release. Lips trembling, a silvery tear right as it was cresting, “You feel so good to me...” Then she keened brokenly, he got a glimpse of her pupils exploding before crashing to pinpricks, lids scrunching closed, her whole being surrendered to the sensation washing over her.

That was it, Caspian could take no more, the abnormal, improbable, inescapably odd sentiment so quickly followed by that vision, and he thrust up deep as he could go, a raw, hoarse, and broken in the best possible way, cry ripped from him as he was suffused with orgasm.

Wrung out, drained utterly to nothing, Caspian knew that he'd get no errands done for the day. Hell, he may not even be able to get up to eat until gaining at least eight to ten hours sleep. Everything would _really_ have to wait until the morrow. As he hoisted the girl up, both of them emptied, Caspian stumbled to get them back to the bed, amused that she was as limp as a ragdoll, the cerulean eyes dreamy with satisfaction to the point he suspected she probably had to remind herself to breathe... Flopping with a heartfelt groan, her state was one he wasn't so far off from himself...

\-----

Early, oh it was definitely early if the barely dawn light filtering through his windows were any guide at all, and his muscles let him know they were pleased with the prior day’s activity, loose, comfortable, completely relaxed. Caspian was the first to awake as he had yesterday morning, and found the uninhibited (at least when she’d had a bit of alcohol, but he’d like to foster that behaviour without intoxication being necessary) little vixen glued to him once again. She was nestled in tight, close, face buried in his throat, and the arm she was laying on she had tucked her fist under her chin, but it was her other hand that stroked and squeezed his back while deep asleep that had Caspian’s morning hard on twitching with demanding interest.

He couldn’t get the sounds she had made, the way she had looked, felt, panting, begging, out of his head. The expressions, her touches, and how they had driven Caspian to make it last as long as possible, to milk every touch he could. Then there was the way it had felt with his stumbled upon prize surrounding him like that, no, no, not ever had he felt anything quite like it. Generally, a wet hole was a wet hole; the skilled could ripple muscles strong enough to forcibly milk a man. Other holes were too tight, still others lacked muscle tone. But this creature he’d found...

Caspian wanted that again, the blood in his veins heating far more than his already erect cock. Beneath his hands, that unearthly flesh slipped, the scent of sex and sleep thick over them both. Feminine dips and curves called out for contact, as did those still kiss bruised and darkened lips, leaving him with the need to taste her. A shudder rocked through him as he tugged her leg up over his hip as he rolled them over as she yet slept, but had come closer to the surface of sleep, close enough to purr into his neck as he began to penetrate her slow and deep, breaching her sex in firm, smooth rocking. Hungry to feel and explore every last inch of her, Caspian worked himself into her and under him there had already begun restless reciprocation, hips wriggling to meet his, the leg he had hooked over his hip tightening. Full lips parted under his, falling open on a moan, lashes fluttering like a dragonfly’s wings to reveal confused eyes that took a moment to focus on him. Hand in her hair, caressing the wavy, roasted chestnut spill, Caspian tilted her head to a better angle, so he could more easily hold her gaze.

Nuzzling her face, sucking a lip between his, pale hands found his back, clutching, and with his steady, rolling thrust, those eyes closed in sighing bliss, eliciting a growl and demand as he let her lip pop from between his, “Open your eyes. I want to see the sky.” Any possible romantic bent to that was purely unintentional, it was just that sky and ocean were encompassed in the spectrum that those orbs housed, and Caspian’s only true home was under the open heavens, riding the oceans...

Susan found her wrists grasped by his large hands, her arms pinned down on the bed for leverage, closer to her shoulders, and she couldn’t help hooking her other leg around the back of lean thigh. Intense dark eyes were on her face, skipping side to side as she was weighed and measured, every response observed as she was unable to prevent herself from giving as his broad headed thick heat glided in and out of her center. The captain seemed pleased as she was left panting, hips seeking to press up against his, her sheath wanting more and less than the ebbing and flowing pace he set. Space between them came, his chest lifting free enough and Susan bit her lip, head lolling to one side as that hot mouth nipped and kissed her neck, her shoulders, every touch sending a shiver through her. Broad, calloused palm squeezed and stroked her side, her breast, the swarthy man’s turgid member dipping deeper in that torturous, maddening rhythm that was chosen. She jerked as the pleasure built, helpless to resist the sensation, her lone freed hand finding his broad back again, and the skin spread under her own delivered caress.

The harsh, masculine groan beside her ear sent a flooding bolt from head to toe, and Susan found an eagerness within herself for that moment to meet him part way when his mouth was on hers again. Endless devouring abyssal eyes bored into hers, the captain resting his forehead against hers, and Susan did her best to hold his gaze, but in the end couldn’t...not with how he was filling her, moving, touching... Trapped under his lean muscled form, so much bigger than her, Susan couldn’t help lifting her hips to meet his smooth thrusts, or her legs wrapping around him, or the hand that moved over his back, but pinned and surrounded, Susan felt the overwhelming force of his presence. It was too much. Whining, Susan scrunched her eyes closed, turning her face away from his. 

Demure, his prize turned her gaze from him, and Caspian growled, “Do not turn away.”

Gratified when she obeyed, that shyness there, teeth sank into her lip, her breathing picked up speed, and Caspian felt that jolt of possessiveness, well aware of how very responsive she was and its overall effects on her. She was close, he could tell, tangling and bucking against him, nails scored his back and his name was a garbled sob as her eyes rolled into her skull. Strength and force picking up, Caspian drove her higher, growling as his own pleasure was building as he watched her, until the pulsing burst had him hunching over her smaller form, his hands fisting in the sheets as every muscle tensed and shook, seed pouring into the almost elemental woman, the paroxysms’ strength left him with an exploding sense of relief as he spilled. 

\----

Susan had found herself led through narrow streets Caspian’s grip on her firm. As soon as they’d had breakfast after the morning’s intense sex, she’d had barely any time to dress before he was leading her from his cabin and outside. His stride was incredibly lengthy and she’d had some issues keeping up as he wove them through the crowds at a slithering speed. It had wound up taking almost all of her attention to do so, to keep her feet, to keep up, but her focus was on one foot before another, rather than everything around them that could have been, should have been, interesting. The streets were packed with people, the air hot and yet it was alleviated by the strong sea breeze. Susan should, by all rights, be sweating like mad, yet found it somewhat comfortable. Leather sandals were simple things that protected her feet, along with the dress she had been given earlier, and was a mode of dress she saw echoed around her. Not that the thieving captain gave her much time to look around, it was all hustle-hustle-hustle until she was pulled into a fragrant, low lit place. 

Momentarily, she was frightened - was he going to just toss her here, leave her behind? But he must have sensed that, not that Susan was quite prepared to believe it was that exactly. He admonished her to ‘be good, relax, and enjoy’, making her feel somewhat like she was a small child being deposited by her mother at someone else’s home to be watched so that her mum was free to go do some errands. All that was missing was neatening of Susan’s hair, a finger wagging in her face, and she would be transported back in time to the age of three or four completely. 

No one really spoke to her, she just was ushered through a few arched Oriental style hallways until she was in a room full of steam and sounds of splashing water. Jumping in surprise as hands made to undress her, Susan jerked away, but the pair of women were efficient and brusque, their dark faces inscrutable except when they thought she wasn’t looking. _Then_ they sort of made amused, confused, and mocking faces for whatever reason. They refused to let her wash herself after she had taken the shallow steps into the pool, even though she tried to protest. That a third came to help was even worse. Out of place and feeling ashamed of her body for some reason, Susan kept her jaw clenched, at least initially. But a few sniffles did work free, causing the women to halt, staring at her.

Looking away from the one who had been scrubbing between her toes as though she were some little child incapable of doing that for herself, Susan dashed a hand over her cheek to remove any telltale tears. “I’m quite sure you’ve got better things to do, the lot of you, than to make fun of me. It’s not like I even know why I’m here, so I’d appreciate not being further mocked, thank you kindly.”

The one who had been working some sort of paste through her hair also halted, and harumphed. “You do not know at all?”

Shoulders rolling in, Susan shifted on the stone stool inside the pool, “He just woke me up, told me to dress, then hauled me _here_.” Admitting to the sex would have been too shameful for belief, so that was omitted with good reason.

Some silent communication of expressions was there that Susan didn’t want to catch, and the one dealing with her lower legs sighed. “Your man brought you to be made beautiful.” Susan’s foot was pulled above the water, her leg twisted enough so she could catch sight of the callouses on the bottom of her feet, “You have never had any care at all. You are a mess. No man who can afford a slave like you would allow this to happen. Unless you were recently sold by your family? Debts? A girl captured from a poor village then sold off? These stories, they are normal, we all know one, have our own, too. But no man wants his woman to be so homely.” Water surged, the woman having clearly taken pity on her, and Susan found herself being embraced lightly, which was very strange considering their mutually nude states. “It is better owners who send their girls to places like this if there is no place at the owner’s to do this. When you are done here, you will be as Zardeenah, the Lady of Maidens and Night, and your man will be well pleased with you.”

Fingers tugged and twirled at her wet hair, the harumphing woman sighing, “A happy man is one who gives better gifts and makes fewer demands, rolls over asleep, worn out quickly.” The ‘sage’ advice was bestowed with minimal fanfare, “If you play him right, he will keep you pampered as a harem girl. But you must remember to keep his interest, men are stupid, urgent in their loving, and forgetful, easily distracted. Like children they chase the shiniest thing, so be that and allow no other to supplant you as long as your looks hold.”

None of what she was told was heartening. However she was less afraid - they were just a sort of overzealous salon. Susan could deal with that. The stuff about Caspian didn’t really bear thinking about, she really did know that sex with him was the coin she was paying for her survival, it just...she wasn’t ready to accept or confront that fact. Probably not ever. And saying it aloud to anyone was unthinkable, such words could never cross her lips.

Scrubbed with something grainy and oily, then scraped, rubbed down, and then at some point laid out on a table, Susan gratefully drank the little cup of tea she had been given. But there was a funny taste in it, sort of put her in mind of laudanum, and then she felt very warm, very quickly, drowsy. She didn’t really react at first when warm, sticky stuff was smeared on her in patches, or when linen ripped the stuff off...but she quickly was whimpering very unhappily, only to have one of the earlier women urge her to take a spoonful of whatever had been in the earlier tea. After that, Susan pretty much stopped caring, because as soon as she was hairless - they even did stuff to her eyebrows! But only a little bit and it was all plucky with tweezers instead of hot waxy stuff - she was then being sat in a chair with strange stirrups that held her knees just so, and her arms out...and some thick, funky herbal paste was put on her in lacy designs. Susan was left bemused, hungry - a gurgle of stomach had resulted in being fed by hand tiny dainty things that put to shame the afternoon tea she had once gone to before the war started. It was all very odd, purposeless too, because that paste wouldn’t last long _at all_. However it was gloriously cool compared to the heat of the outdoors and also the varying temperatures of the establishment. She had to have been there for hours, stuck in that awkward position, being fed dainties or sips of fruit juice. Alright, the juices were wonderful, being clean was wonderful, the weird pampering was odd but not so bad...the wax and hair stuff was something Susan could have really dealt without. 

At some point after a light doze, Susan awoke to having the paste rubbed off, which left behind vibrant orange-red designs that wouldn’t come off even when she tested it with her fingers. Susan didn’t have much time to ponder that before she was helped to stretch a good bit then it was onto a different table in a different room. Incense filled the room in a strange soft spiced way, and Susan took a deep breath, picking out a few familiar scents that were like what Caspian wore or used... Before she had much time to ponder what was going on, she was laid out _yet again_ except this time strong hands set to work on her from her temples down to her toes. Sighing happily after not very long, Susan probably should feel very much like her body was being touched invasively by all that passing around that had been done, and now the massage... Yet it was really, really, _really_ nice, leaving her groaning as muscles relaxed under diligent hands. 

And she dozed off again, she really couldn’t help it, but at least it wasn’t because of being given any of that laudanum again. It had worn off surprisingly fast earlier, but when she’d managed to mutter out a question, the answer had been she was only given a teeny, tiny bit of it, one of the women who’d stayed with her since the bath once more taking pity on her enough to explain that. The lack of that laudanum being in the forefront of her mind, didn’t keep Susan from being mostly incoherently relaxed and happy.

Caspian had left his acquisition at Niab’s bathhouse since early morning, and being early evening meant she’d had an inordinately large amount of time to be treated like a princess. Then again, there’d been a great deal to work on, at least that was according to Niab’s fussing at him as the eunuch flailed hands about. So long as she was clean, groomed, and some effort had been made on adornment, Caspian was fairly well pleased. Entering the back massage room, he was presented with a large tray display of various piercing posts, hoops, and such. Most were silver, silver coated in thin veils of gold, and some were actual gold. 

Accepting the pomegranate juice, the clay cup sweated chilled moisture, his free hand touching the detailed drawing of the female form that displayed what kinds of piercings were available. Tapping the ones he liked, head cocked, “Use platinum, I know you have some on hand.” From nearby, his pet made an incomprehensible, happy little gibber as some of the lazy massaging passes continued as a way to get her legs to spread. Knowing what would come soon, Caspian moved to stand so he blocked much of her view of what was going on. 

“Hi,” a contented hum came from Susan as she blinked up at Caspian when she was able to make her eyes focus on him, one of his calloused fingers was crooked, rubbing along her jaw. It felt nice, and she tipped her head back to get more of it, in spite of the strange sensation of a hand near her privates - it was probably just another reapplication of oil, they’d massaged the outer muscles already really well. Except there was something sort of chilly and Susan looked up at Caspian, foggy, “What’s going on now?”

“Hmn? Nothing,” he shrugged, unconcerned, taking a sip of his juice, intending on keeping her distracted. Caspian wasn’t real clear on why he even cared, it wasn’t like a few piercings were all that much to get riled about. But, as he stroked her neck and jaw, her head tilted enough for him to see her ears. Her unpierced ears. _Forefathers, goddammit._ She would be that much more sensitive and easier to agitate if she wasn’t even familiar with that. Splendid. “So, what all have you done today?”

Susan opened her mouth to reply, but something cold, then sort of burnny pinched, “What was that?”

“What have you done today?” repeating the question, the captain leaned his hip against the table, and it made it so he didn’t tower quite so badly as he had been. “I like to know what I am paying for, so come, tell me.”

Nose crinkling, Susan grit her teeth on the scratchy hot sensation, “I had a bath and some nice women -” saying this so the ladies at least knew, that while she wasn’t alright with the situation, that she acknowledged the fact that they had shown her kindness, “- helped me get washed up. Then there was -” Susan sucked in a breath, another pinch making her face scrunch up with discomfort, “- alright, that was something...” 

Except Caspian was listening and refusing to acknowledge whatever she said other than her day’s activities. “So, a bath, and...?”

“They did some horrible stuff with ripping out my hair _all over_ , and now I look like a little girl,” she made a displeased face, but Caspian just raised a brow, waving his cup at her to continue. He was gratified when she did, “There was a really nice massage, and before that there was some paste that - _ow_!” She began to try and move, but he planted a hand on her sternum, giving her a firm look. There was a growling hiss in the back of her throat, letting him know just how displeased she was, “Alright, that was something Caspian, what’s going on?”

“Just lay back,” he instructed. “Nothing to worry about, would you like some juice?” Caspian asked, holding the cup towards her. 

Susan made a face, discomfort beginning to bloom between her legs, and she glowered at the cup, “It’s not rum again, is it?” She began to bat away his hand where it was pressed on her chest, but then something seared her nipple, garnering a frightened, pained yelp, a good bit of language her mother would be mortified she knew, spilling from her mouth, “Ow! What in the bloody fucking hell!?!”

“Shall I do the other one, sir?” the piercer asked, and Caspian glanced at the woman, then back over his pet’s body.

Sniffing thoughtfully, mouth pursed in speculation, “No, as is should be good enough. Actually, I quite like the asymmetry...” The girl was squirming on the table, distressed and discontent, a hand trying to go towards her freshly pierced cunny, the other to the clearly hurting breast, and Caspian admonished her, “If you do not stop that, you will hurt yourself. They will put balm on it to make you more comfortable. Then your makeup will be done and we shall return to my ship.”

Susan was back in that fancy chair with the stirrups soon enough, which was helpful as she scrunched and slouched, seeking any sort of position that alleviated the burning fiery sting as she glowered at the captain. Grousing, “They ripped out all my hair, Caspian. I’m _bald_ , I look funny!” There were a few furtive snickers from the attendants, and the captain seemed unimpressed, leaning against the nearest wall, sipping his drink and watching. “Now I’ve got things in me too! Earrings go in ears, not in - not in other places!”

The beknighted man didn’t respond to any of that, rather he occasionally interrupted the girl doing her makeup, requesting a different colour instead, “Not that one, that berry colour is better.”

Eventually all was done and behind him, the girl wobbled a bit, walking with her legs bowed out, and she watched as he paid. Caspian didn’t dicker with Niab, paying the exorbitant fee first quoted. Generally it was bad form to do that, except when making a point. The latter was what Caspian was aiming for - he wanted the girl aware of the fact he was willing to sink a good deal of coin into her. Niab blanched muttering about the fact that he had overcharged Caspian, but he waved the Calormene off, going so far as to sneer in disgust when the curly haired eunuch dared to hesitatingly suggest a payment plan considering the idiotic price he had namd. She was an investment, the girl would need to know that, learn that. Even if he sold her off right that moment to the highest bidder, Caspian would be able to recoup ten to twenty times what he put into her so far. 

Sweeping his eyes over her, the hair that had been put into a mix of easily maintained braids haloing her crown, to the bit of falling, mostly straightened waves of wild chestnut that fell around her neck, then the makeup, Caspian stated, “It was good work. Here.” Warning the Calormene with a steely look, “The next time I bring her in, it will be less.” 

Aware that there would be no feasible way his prize would be able to travel by foot back to _Ysobel_ , Caspian had already hired a rickshaw to carry them both back. She was small and easily helped into the two wheeled cart, no burden at all. Having leaned heavily on him as soon as she gave up on the funny waddling she had persisted in attempting at first, Caspian barely had to do more than shift to hoist her up into the seat, then plunk beside her. The runner immediately picked up the handlebars as he gave instruction to go to _La Ysobel’s_ berth. 

There had been soft mutters from the girl the whole time of continued discontent, and Caspian finally had enough of it. Arm draped over the cart’s back seat, “Cease that at once, girl. Many women wish they were so well treated. Calormene women would probably kill for such an opportunity if they could find the spine for that.” A finger toying with one of her dark locks, “You have been pampered like a favoured harem girl, maybe even a noble concubine, you have no reason to continue this malcontented diatribe. It is childish.”

Susan huffed, arms shifting to cross, but she only just barely remembered in time to not do so, “I’m _not_ harem girl!”

Visibly unaffected, a large bronze hand was waved dismissively, making Susan want to howl at him angrily, “And you would do well to remember that.” Oh yes, howl, because he was reminding her of what she _really_ didn’t want to think about. “You are mine and it is up to my discretion as to how you are treated. Today I have given you a sample of what you can expect from your life.” She shivered as his thumb ran over her jugular, “If you are nice and well behaved, you will be in a most enviable position. If you are not nice however, you will find that you are no longer kept as a well cared for concubine.”

She looked at him, incredulous. He called having all of her body hair - plenty of it she hadn’t even been aware she _had_ \- ripped out by hot wax, then large needles drilling holes into places that holes didn’t belong... He called that ‘ _well cared for_ ’? Muttering, “Your ideas of kindness leave a great deal to be desired!”

There was no response and she settled into sullenly waiting to regain the ship.

Caspian was prepared for the fiery tantrum that the girl unleashed when back in his cabin. She’d been preparing for it the whole return trip from Niab’s. Her statement that there were ‘earrings’ in her vagina had him struggling to not choke to death on laughter. Clearly the girl hadn’t ever been taught a damn thing about her body if she didn’t know her vulva from her vagina... Sort of sad really. Back and forth they went for many minutes as he watched her with vast amusement as she tried not to stomp or wave her arms about too wildly.

Finally he pointed out, “Many people have these kinds of piercings. Even I have several.”

“No you don’t!” she fussed, her blue eyes flashing.

Raising a brow as he leaned his ass against the edge of his desk, “Did you even _look_?”

Sputtering, the girl was the very picture of offense, “Of course not! Why would I do something like that?!” Another growl, “I don’t want to see or think about your willy, it doesn’t matter! I’ve got _earrings in places that aren’t my ears_ Caspian, and that’s just not right!”

Tongue rolling along the inside of his teeth, Caspian shook his head, “Look, here, will this make you feel better?” Already unlacing his trews, Caspian pulled his manhood from the confines, even as the girl was covering her eyes with both hands. “Go ahead and take a look, alright? You will see you are not the only one with some adornment.”

Eyes shooting wide once she peeked from between pale fingers, her lips pursed, “That...that...that looks funny.”

He gave her a blank stare, it was his turn to be offended, “Of all the things a woman has said about my prick, that is the strangest one.”

Giggling choked snorts, “It does! I mean, you’ve got...weird earrings in your...your -” hands returned to her eyes, “alright, I’m not looking at that silly thing a moment more! You’re a pervert, you know! Showing girls your willy and putting funny jewelry in it!”

Gesturing, unseen, with both hands, palms to the ceiling, releasing his head shaking disbelief, “That did not stop you from liking it earlier.”

“You got me drunk!” swift rejoinder shot out at speed.

“ _You_ got you drunk,” he mildly pointed out.

"No - you gave me rum! So you got me drunk! I didn't know what I was doing, otherwise I'd certainly never choose to, you know, with you!"

Caspian snorted, even more offended. He'd yet to meet a woman who wouldn't lay with him for the right price. Crossing his arms over his chest, "And what of after you woke up? Hmm? You certainly enjoyed it then as well. Were you drunk then?"

Susan stomped her foot, instantly regretting it, and cupping her groin lightly, "No! But you took advantage of me! I was sleeping..."

He was infuriating in his confidence, "Not the entire time, I have scratches on my back that say you were quite awake." 

Obviously she didn’t have anything to say about that. 

Changing the subject, or at least moving to what he wanted, “Do you want to see them? I know I would like a better look at what I paid for.” Caspian dug for a jar of healing unguent that was thick with cocoa butter and coconut oil as the main carrier ingredients blended with special herbs that sped the body’s repair of flesh, not looking at her, “Off with that dress and get on the bed.”

“Oh-ho, no, there’ll be none of that!” she protested.

Casting her a look, he waved the jar at her, “Do it. Now. Besides, this is better than what they use for dulling the burning. Believe me, those are not places you wish to get infected. Now - undress and go lay on the bed as I told you to do.”

She did look very lovely, her skin shimmering, khol rimmed eyes making the blue pop out even more. Smooth, which was how he liked his women when he could get them that way, and adorned like a proper possession, gleaming and shining, just the way she should be. Her legs were bent at the knee, making a little arch, aiming for some semblance of modesty. That would have to go, but the sweetness could stay - it was endearing. Pressing her legs open, Caspian gazed down at the results that his hard earned money purchased. Quite nice indeed, four hoops - two in each outer lip - lay flat against her skin. Kneeling on the floor, Caspian waited a moment just enjoying the sight.

"Could you not do that?" squirming under the scrutiny.

Caspian shook his head, "Oh no, I shall do what I want."

Opening the jar and digging some of the salve out on his fingers, Caspian stroked it on, soothing the redness of the shock to her skin. A pained whimper that was ignored, she attempted to squirm away from him, though he had grabbed one of her ankles, not allowing her to go anywhere. He could see her trying to fight him, but yet she was getting wetter from the attention she received. Labia swollen from the shock of piercing, they had moved apart when he pressed her legs to fall open, affording him a fine view of the smaller, ruffled edges of the inner petals, and just how dewy they were from that little bit of touch. Leaning down, his gaze never leaving hers, Caspian's tongue flickered lightning swift up the inner route of her thigh, halting just shy of a single spread and pierced lip.

His pet looked at him in shock, "I can't believe you just did that."

He licked her again, this time over where she was hot, still watching her. Oh how she hated his scrutinizing gaze. Susan averted her eyes but squirmed under his touch. Squeezing her eyes shut, but he commanded, "Look at me."

"Please stop...please," she whimpered. "Oh...don't stop," as he repeated his earlier actions on the opposite leg.

Caspian spread her thighs wider and blew cool air on her wet center. It had her shifting even more restlessly but at least she was focusing her gaze on him as he ordered. Leaning in, he swirled his tongue over each of the rings, rumbling as his nostrils filled with the musk of her arousal. Arched spine, her ass lifted off the bed as his tongue captured each piercing, tugging it gently so as to not harm let alone threaten to rip while so delicate and new. Her fists tangled in the sheets as they likely stung, but Caspian was aware from experience that it was a pleasurable pain. 

Susan had never experienced a sensation like that before and she found she quite enjoyed it perversely. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head when his expert tongue glided over her newly smooth skin, and inside she could feel her muscles clamping down hungrily in search of an intrusion that wasn’t there. Susan never realized how sensitive she could be until then. His tongue flickered and swirled over her erect clit and she couldn’t help a giggling gasp when he did that. The urge to struggle and free her ankles from his tight grip where he held her feet planted against the bed changed from seeking freedom to the odd desire to wrap them over his shoulders but he wouldn’t let her do either.

She wriggled and whimpered as his tongue laved at her dripping nectars, and darted inside her for many long, dizzying minutes.

Caspian's hands moved up her legs, stroking until he reached her sex having finally relinquished her ankles for whatever reason, she only knew the caress felt wonderful as his mouth remained occupied. Susan could feel his lips on her petals, then his fingers spreading them open further, that chosen goal attained. Whimpering and scrunching her eyes closed when wet suction closed over her entrance, Susan thought she was going to die her hands clenching at the bed beneath her, even her toes sought to cling and scrunch for security to the mattress. It was all sort of futile though, because really she was going to die, there was nothing for it. Either of embarrassment or ecstasy, she didn't know. Then his fingers were massaging her outer lips, while his mouth worked - gentle nibbling alternated with lightning fast swirls and strong sucking. Unknown shapes were drawn over the pink hood nestled at the apex of her sex that left her gasping, wanting more and less, her heart thundering and her head ringing as she struggled to retain some shred of her sanity under the onslaught.

Caspian pulled away long enough to remind her, "Do not close your eyes!" before taking her nubbin in his mouth once more. 

Susan couldn’t stop herself from obediently opening her eyes to look at him at the directive, as her legs wrapped around Caspian's shoulders, the part of her that he had driven mad was worried he may stop if she didn’t comply. He was driving her over the edge well beyond madness and she didn't know how much more she could take. Squeezing her legs tightly on his shoulders as he took her to the point of no return was all she could do, every bit of her head to toe struggling and striving for multiple things and Susan did all she could to keep at least enough presence of mind to keep her lids from fully closing, not daring to ponder the agony that would come if Caspian stopped - which she was entirely certain he would if she closed her eyes again. Stomach quivering, Susan couldn't help it anymore and fell apart under Caspian's watchful gaze, all thought fled, even the desperate internal admonishment to not close her eyes. Panting, she relaxed her grip on him, fingers still holding the sheets tight, nothing more than a puddle of dancing, livewire nerves.

Caspian licked lightly at her sex, cleaning up all her juices, his eyes never straying from hers, as he leaned in to kiss her ravenously, the taste strange and salty compared to last time, an undercurrent of something she had only occasionally caught the scent of flavouring that kiss beneath the tart saline.

 _Eww. Did he really do that? Kiss me after licking me clean?_ her subconscious couldn't wrap itself around that perversion. But she liked the taste of herself on his tongue that was probing inside her mouth.

He crawled over her and straddled her waist after that. Gripping the pillow under her head with one hand and his cock in the other, he forced her to watch him as he pleasured himself. His little pet obviously didn't know where to put her hands so they instinctively wrapped around his thighs, then shifted to his hips then back down again in an unintentional caress that she likely thought was awkward. She couldn’t be aware of the effect that her featherlight touches on his legs had on him or the darting, curious looks she cast over him, had Caspian ready to snarl possessively over her.

"That is a good little Kitten. Go ahead and touch me. Keep your eyes on me."

She stole glances at his prick in his hand, trying to focus her gaze on his face. When that became too much, she looked away and then started the cycle all over again. All over she blushed pink, even all the way down to her breasts, just as she had the day before.

Feeling his balls tighten, Caspian grunted as stringy ropes landed over her chest, the inescapable end result. Leaning down, he licked her clean once more, his eyes fixed on hers. This time when he kissed her, she didn't try turn away at all, even though he felt a shudder move through her. Leaning over her, he wrapped the covers over his pet, tucking her in as though he was putting away a pretty possession. Which is exactly what she was.

"Keep your legs open as much as you can so the air can help you heal. Do not play with them or that will lead to them becoming infected. And you may use the balm if you need it, if it stings unbearably. Sleep well, Kitten,” instructions given Caspian spared her a last kiss, not meant to be sweet but there was a soft glisten on her bottom lip and he wished to gain himself a parting taste.

Getting up, he set the jar of salve on his desk in plain view. Caspian adjusted himself in his trews and puttered about for a few minutes. After all, he did need to check on his crew and go over the maps and other details for their upcoming voyage.

Susan watched him move about the cabin in wonderment. She couldn't figure out what he was doing or why he made her feel so good. After the excitement of everything that happened to her that day made it hard for her eyes to stay open, and of their own accord, fluttered closed, sleep coming easily as it had several times since Caspian snatched her from Miraz’s ship.

Caspian gave the girl one last look, then nodded. She'd stay out of trouble for the moment. Good, it meant he could check for more small wares that would fetch high prices and not have to worry that she would do anything stupid. Like try to leave. With a snort at how idiotic that idea was, Caspian left.

A short time later, he returned, needing sleep himself. He saw that she was out like a light still, and this time he was certain she wasn’t faking. Caspian undressed with fast economical movements and slid under the sheets next to her, curious as to why she didn't roll toward him like she normally did, if two evenings in a row could be considered establishing a pattern. Lifting the sheet, he stared down along her body for a bit, still inordinately pleased with the bit of serendipity that had fallen into his grasp. Seeing as he did pay a good sum of money for what was done, he may as well enjoy the view thoroughly.

Finally laying his head down and closing his eyes, Caspian frowned and turned to glare at her, his lip curled up as he snarled. He leaned up on his elbow, searching around for his pillow, which wasn’t where it should be. She had to have taken it. He felt something against his thigh and lifted the covers again. There, beneath her knees, it lay to help promote the idea of keeping her legs spread and laying on her back to ensure proper healing. He was not happy but he would make do with his forearm as sleep overtook him. _Tomorrow_ he would be certain to have his bloody pillow back however.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I suck at posting consistently. RL stuff was causing issues, and so I've sucked at replying to folks too. So here's chapter three without further delay, forgives me pwease.

In the early morning, Caspian set out to visit another of the bazaars, one that was situated closer to the Raj Merikesh’s palace. He wished to acquire a few last minute purchases before setting sail, as well as making certain that his remaining cargo for the particular port had been delivered properly. Niab’s goods had been delivered two mornings prior and the accounts had been settled up when he had first dropped his very feline pet - _Kittenish, through and through, apt name I suppose, better than leaving her just ‘girl’_ \- at the bathhouse the day before. All had been in order, but Caspian had spent most of yesterday haggling, trading, bickering, dickering, and hadn’t let himself take his customary time to suss out all of the gossip, political and religious machinations...which guild had gotten a leg up on another, so on, so forth. 

Standing in front of one vendor's tent, he overheard a conversation concerning the Raj and his harem girls.

It sounded like a tired, exasperated and worn out old bit of fat to be chewed, "Are there enough girls in these lands to keep him happy at the rate he discards them?"

The other man, the first a merchant of some sort, the second an artisan if Caspian remembered the coding and wrap styles of turbans correctly, sounded equally wearied, "Not likely. Unless he starts stealing them from other men.” It was worn out, but the disgust and disappointment was clear and quite audible, “There goes another right now."

Caspian turned his head to look over his shoulder, following the direction that the artisan had gestured in with a futile wave of work-worn hand that couldn’t summon the energy for real anger anymore. He saw two palace guards dragging a beaten and bloody girl between them and throw her into a cage, affixing an ugly padlock that he could have picked with a twist of hair, but someone battered and sheltered hadn’t a hope of escaping. The cage was then attached to a metal chain on a pulley that lifted it several feet in the air. She would be burnt by the sun and wind, and the seagulls would have a feast as well. If there came rain, she may live for a week or more, but beaten, without shade, and if the weather didn’t release precious water - she would be dead in a day or two, perhaps three or four if she’d been properly fed and hydrated up until recently. Nasty way to go. Caspian could summon up a good portion of disgust himself for that - torture and drawn out death was just pointless. _Torture does have a few uses, but it should not just be for amusement, sickening,_ his dark eyes took it all in, a sneering scowl only narrowly withheld from his face.

Curiosity got the better of him, having been away from Calormen for well over a year. Part of him had been truly considering selling his pet to the Raj for a high price on a return pass after he was fully done with his route along Calormen, but now he wanted to know what he was getting into. At least it would help him better decide if he’d really keep her for himself, or for himself for longer than the time it would take to train her... Really, Caspian was of several minds about it, then again, it wouldn’t do to get attached.

"What was her crime?" he found himself asking, subtly working himself close enough to enter the conversation uninvited.

"Nothing, except that he got tired of her,” yellow turbaned head shaking, bearded face pinching down as pale brown eyes swung away from the ugly scene. “Every couple weeks he gets rid of another girl whose beauty fades in his eyes during the brief span she holds his attention."

Frowning, brows furrowing as he struggled to not hiss at the sheer depraved waste, "Is there a new Raj?"

The merchant chuckled, thoroughly amused over the question that had so put Caspian at a disadvantage, opening himself up for derision at being out of touch, "You must be either new to these parts or deaf, dumb, and blind, living under a rock. No, it is the same Raj who has been in power for the past five years. It is merely that over the last year, he has become much more.... _demanding_ of his harem. He is running out of exotic girls to please him. For a time, the slavers were ecstatic, as Raj bought up every Archenland female they could bring him."

Caspian didn’t like the sound of that news. Nodding, he thanked the merchant, paying for the turquoise blue silk scarf that matched his pet's eyes. He turned to leave. He must not let anyone see her in that case. Raj Merikesh was an unworthy buyer, but it also made the kitten a bit of a liability - best to hide the wealth he had obtained when claiming her so as to not tempt anyone. Besides, it seemed too ugly and cruel to allow her to fall into hands as disgusting as the ones he had snatched her from.

\---

It was rare that a crime was deemed bad enough for the law’s punishment or judgement to be passed down in front of a Raj. However, life was cheap, luxury prevalent, and a disaffected, disassociated lack of empathy that resulted in little, if any, repercussions for the uppermost classes. Not all that uncommon of a problem to plague the extremes of society, though on the opposite end of the spectrum, the meanest of the poor lived cheap lives, with suffering taking the place of the rich’s luxury, but in the end...selfish disassociation was the result.

And the Raj was easily bored, for as a person of rank only behind the Tisroc, equalled only by other Rajs, princes of cities, there was nothing truly forbidden to him. What did the man who had such power do for entertainment when nubile flesh, potent intoxicants, fine food, art, or other such things, couldn’t hold his attention? Such a being who never had to worry much about receiving direct violence to his person, would find it to be a grand game when doled out to others. 

Raj Merkish had his guards throw away the used up trash of his no longer favourite already, after having spent an hour or two sampling her wares one last time, and then watching in bored amusement as his favourite bodyguards took their turns... Oh but such things, they were so fleeting! In fact, a few hours after it was all over, Raj Merikesh had been ready to howl with just how dull his day was, until he called for his wazir to bring in any of those in need of judgement. That should be worth quite a few hours! Or so he hoped.

Petty thieves, a few street urchins, and debtors later, Raj Merikesh was almost bored once more. Calormenes didn’t make as many pleas or wails for clemency, protestations of innocence as Raj would have liked. But then a fortuitous thief was thrown down before his grand marble dais where his elephant bone and precious woods throne resided holding his lean body - a body lean only due to the magical aid demanded from one of the rare shaman found in Calormen - was a man of a different type of swarthy from the typical Calromene. Calormenes tended to have hints of reddened clay in their skin tones, or, if from the deep interior reaches, almost a purple undertone to the darkness of their sun gilded flesh - over the centuries there’d been enough introduction of Archenlander in some spots to result in paler bronzes, but the Calormene colouration tended to be quite dominant. But there was another plentiful human race in the world, one almost as numerous as Calormenes, and quite robustly swarthy, olives and bronzes being common. 

_Telmarine_ \- oh yes, the sailors of Telmar were a proud lot, too proud for being nothing more than bilge rats. A Telmarine sailor, filthy and despicable, was on the floor, terrified but not as disgustingly quiet about it as a Calormene would be. Raj Merikesh squealed and cooed within the confines of his mind, _this_ was one that would be entertaining! Telmarines were so accustomed to thinking they were superior with their stupid ships, their vast machines, and their staid laws dictating rights accorded to even their meanest little drudge - why, he had once read that even slaves had some sort of rights! Absurd!

But Raj Merikesh wanted to enjoy the Telmarine’s fear, wanted it to mount, and those pathetic fish lovers had ideas about what was fearsome. They weren’t the sort smart enough, aware enough, that someone having power over them giggling in glee should be something that resulted in them wetting their canvas trousers. So, Raj Merikesh stared down, outwardly bored and utterly unimpressed. That was the sort of thing Telmarines would fear from someone with power, anything else, would be mentally dismissed as mere madness and childishness. Raj Merikesh would _not_ ever allow himself to be viewed as anything like that! He must be feared and respected, so he played the little game, steepling his fingers before himself, elbows upon the armrests of his throne, and waited to hear his wazir list the crime that brought the sailor before him.

It was all rather mundane, someone was upset at something being stolen clumsily resulting in some idiot being stabbed over it, which had led to the Telmarine being taken into custody.

Raising a hand to halt the meaningless recorded testimony of the wronged party and the guards observations of the case, Raj Merikesh stared down at the increasingly fearful, cringing, yet defensive sailor, “Telmarine, your kind travels far and wide, tell me, do you even know the laws of Calormen? Of what thieves from anywhere receive for their crimes?”

Shuddering, clutching at stained and overly patched grungy, formerly whitened canvas trousers, stuttering in the lowest brogue possible, “Hands, yer lordship, sir. They lose their ‘ands - b-but I be a sailor! I need me hands!”

“I have little care for that,” he hitched a shoulder, stroking his beard. A smile touched his mouth, “But I do have some reasonableness within me. Leniency has its price, what have you to bargain with, Telmarine?” His laughter began to break free, the mirth too much to contain at the thought, “A dozen daughters? Chests of pirate booty? Even fine poetry may move me to spare you such an ignoble fate as being a sailor without hands!”

Frantic, the hoped for hyperventilating, shaking, shivering, and grovelling began, and Raj Merikesh didn’t care about the words, the tone of them was his concern, and it was music to his ears!

...Until something got through, garbled, making sense, or at least a little bit, “Blue eyes, Archenlander blue! But Telmarine brown hair, ye like them strange ones, Raj!” Howling as the guards had been stretching the man’s arms out to be tied to the quite bloody block before Raj Merikesh’s dais, “I know a girl, I seen ‘er! Eyes like the sea, hair like coffee!” Squealing as one guard began sharpening his heavy scimitar to readiness, “But skin like milk! She had skin like milk, and funny little pink spots on her!”

Raj Merikesh sat up straight, his attention having finally been grabbed fully, and listened to the words, he held up his hand to halt his guards’ work, “A moment - what was that you said, Telmarine?”

Panting, sensing a hint of freedom and escape, “A girl, we found a girl, you like them exotic ones?” Babbling rambling, but Raj Merikesh nodded, gaze narrowed, which elicited a better description, some of that nonsensical low class cast falling away to be clearer, the sense of survival driving the man to make a case and make it in suitable words for a Raj to hear, “We found her on an islet. Eyes like the sky, nay, like the sea, all stormy, all kinds of blues, Raj! I swears, eyes like that, eyes brighter n’any Archenlander girl I did see!”

“Enough, calm yourself, man,” Raj Merikesh interrupted, prompting. “Hassan, give the man something to drink to wet his throat to better tell me of his bargaining chip.”

A carafe of wine finer than the scum would have ever sampled in his life, was carried over, a cup made of the thinnest obsidian that was worth twice the man’s life if he were a slave on auction, was filled to the brim and offered to the Telmarine, who promptly drained it, so terrified that he probably never would have tasted the wine, but that was the irony, wasn’t it? The Telmarine was granted enough freedom of movement to go so far as to stand, measurements and shape given out, pleasant enough, but with the rest... “Tiny, tiny thing, not like one of them Narnians’ tiny, dainty, long limbs, biggest tits I ever seen on a girl that young, not dainty like a lady of good class an’ upbringing, but the kind big enough to make whores mad, hair all kinds of brown, blonde, bits of red, all mixed up. Blue eyes, Raj Merikesh, blue eyes, and she got skin whiter than - than,” a quick shivering look around the throneroom, then a gesture at colonnade of a pale marble that held the faintest of cherry blossom blushes to it, white as could be, but not purely so, “than that column, she is. Head to toe, like that. With spots, pink ones, tiny little ones, like ink splatter in spots that got lots of sun.” The words were gasped out, filled with hope, “ _Mi capitan_ , Miraz of the ship _Cyclone_ has got her, Raj Merikesh. He would sell her, he is always happy to do good business.”

Raj Merikesh rubbed his chin, the bare bit of it showing through the elegance of his beard, patiently waiting for more information. Such a creature a girl like that would be! And she came from an island the Telmarines had found? Marvellous, he would have it raided immediately to claim any others like that, but also to put the rest to the sword, he must be the only one with such creatures at his beck and call! But he must know where it was... He just wanted the girl first, must possess her, must examine her and test her out thoroughly. 

Shifty glances side to side, some bit of confidence having been regained, “Nobody even touched her yet. _Punta_ got the bleeds before anyone could,” making a superstitious sign over himself, reminding Raj Merikesh once again that sailors were a dumb lot who thought a woman on her moon time was ill-omen to touch in case it offended the orb in the sky that ruled the tides, but also because blood attracted the dangerous creatures of the waters they sailed. As though such stupid things were true. Fools, the lot of them. But it meant the girl was untouched, a bonus on one hand as nobody would be able to claim the coup of taking such a rare thing first, but also an annoyance, as those with their flowers intact tended to be boring until trained, and these days, few lasted that long. If she were the only one like that, perhaps he would force himself to stay his hand long enough, maybe even long enough to get an heir off of her, as no one else could ever lay claim to that magnificent and impossible rarity. “Been tied to the mast, kept safe from sun, fed, nobody touched her, save but to kick her to remind her of her place. You would be the first, the, the only, Raj Merikesh, to have a rare ‘un like that.”

Finally, “You have gained not just my attention, my interest, but also my mercy. You may keep your hands, and remain able to claim yourself a sailor.” He gave a nod to the guard that had been standing behind the prisoner, whose blade swung quickly, but not so fast that the Telmarine didn’t hear the rest, “But I claim your life.” Amused, rising and walking down from his perch to nudge the rolling head with its still sentient eyes, he toed it over, certain that the ears could still hear, the brain still understand, “Information is of merit, but without something in your possession to back it up, useless.” To his wazir, clapping his hands, “Find me this Miraz! I want that girl!”

\---

He hadn’t fled the marketplace after hearing what Raj Merikesh had been doing to his many harem girls that hailed from every locale that slavers could provide, in every available level of exoticness. He hadn’t fled, no matter the drive to check on his investment, and his desire to mitigate any risk _La Ysobel_ and his crew would be put in by his pet’s presence - because fleeing would have drawn attention. Caspian hadn’t hurried either, offering up muttered prayers for luck from his forefathers to buy a bit of time, a bit of leeway, while he meandered doing his shopping and sussing out of Merikesh. It had become imperative when he saw worn notices in need of replacing that he had, at first, taken for mere depictions of whatever criminal was on the lam presently, but then once hearing the conversation earlier, and he spied a fresher notice, that it was open season any unclaimed female of ‘uncommon’ appearance. And even claimed females would be inspected if pointed out and offered up, purchased by Raj Merikesh. Older notices, the worn ones, upon closer inspection, were similar, but different. Originally it was any female for sale that was unique, but the newer the notice, the more demanding the statement - with the most recent, that from the condition of the glue and amount of sunbleaching, Caspian would estimate was less than two or three days old, that unique females would be inspected if brought to anyone’s attention and purchased if deemed of sufficient interest. No mention of what would happen if a female ‘of sufficient interest’ wasn’t for sale. Not that Caspian required such a clarification - life didn’t tend to go well for those who resisted the declarations or desires of a Raj. So long as nobody noticed his acquisition and he left port quickly, there would be no problems, since each city and each Raj had little pull in other cities, only the edicts of the Tisroc were universal to all within Calormen.

No, Caspian didn’t feel fear, he felt _irritation_ at the development. 

That was the problem with countries outside of Telmar, they had these antiquated notions of laws. Calormen was the worst in that regard, every city or large town big enough to warrant a Raj of its own, was overseen by spoilt, simpering little stains that hadn’t an idea of how to do anything for themselves - up to, and including, wipe their own asses, dressing themselves or putting on shoes would have completely escaped their knowhow as too complex, but being so useless as to have no idea how to clean up their own asscracks only showed the extremity of how ineffectual they were. Telmar had little patience for that sort, a thousand years ago, they had given the old fashioned aristocracy the boot, evicting them and their ideas of right to rule via blood, making it some other country’s problem. Telmar had little patience for that sort back then, and now, even less, and as for Caspian? He would deal with Rajs any day for business or trade, they had money to spend, but he would never, ever respect them in any format, they weren’t worthy to lick his boots. He came from a country that yes, his rights and abilities in terms of many aspects that could advance or protect himself, had been diminished due to extenuating circumstances, but he was still a citizen with rights, even more than that, he was a citizen _captain_ with rights and that meant something more than even the wealthiest of merchant princes of Calormen could boast: Caspian had a _say_ in how his homeland was run, while everyone in Calormen had none, save for the Tisroc, then his sycophant Rajs after him... In Calormen, power came from the top, all decisions, everything, to rain crap down on all below, who dared only complain quietly.

But in Calormen, Caspian, as a Son of Telmar, had some more leeway in a few things, as not even the stupidest of Rajs tended to be so shortsighted as to think angering the nation that ruled the seas and commanded weapons of destruction was all that good an idea. Yet, what leeway it purchased was fairly slight, mostly extending to no seizure of possessions without just cause, attack, and a chance to some sort of trial witnessed by other Sons of Telmar to be certain that he was given opportunity to defend himself or be defended against any accusations about broken laws and the like. That was it, no matter that it was far more than someone of any other nation, let alone of Calormen itself, could expect. 

And so he could be certain that of one thing - so long as his pet wasn’t being obvious enough to draw attention, then there was nothing to worry about, there would be no random searches to see what was in his hold. 

He was still aggravated, this shouldn’t even be a concern, but it was, and it chafed Caspian. It was an irritant that didn’t abate until his boots paced up the taut gangplank connecting _La Ysobel_ to the quay, and he hoped to set it aside when entering his cabin. No doubt his pet was relaxing, a meal and a bit of light play would wind up doing the same for him, and perhaps banish some of the unpleasantness of his day thus far. 

Except as his door swung open, Caspian felt a bolt of horror, anger, and aghast he scanned his cabin. It was as though a summer hurricane had torn through, throwing all about in its path without logic, rhyme, or reason, nor even a hint of care. Books, costly books even for a Son of Telmar who had access to the mass printed copies from the ingenuity of the presses, were thrown about like leaves, blessedly, most were closed, pages undamaged from just the cursory input of his shocked stare. His footlocker was open, its contents not quite so scattered, but just as abused, and as his gaze travelled, feet numbly taking him into his cabin, door silently being closed behind him, sparkling sapphires and rubies shot coloured light at him from his pet’s tousled hair. Drawers were ajar, clothes half in, half out, everything, simply everything, was a mess, except his pet with her hair all piled up with precious things that she would never have permission let alone a right to wear, sitting atop his desk, back bared from the sheet she had wrapped herself in falling down, the curve of spine open to anyone’s gaze who may walk through the door, a foot on the back of his chair to rock it forwards and backwards. Head tilting just so, and her nose was obviously pressed into a book she couldn’t appreciate one bit, as the very notion of such a creature being remotely literate was laughable as well as impossible. Rare was the woman who had any head for a bit of that, and something like Kitten wasn’t, at least, not beyond the rare part in general terms, and only due to looks, beyond that, there wasn’t any real substance.

Teeth grit, Caspian padded up behind her, then deftly pulled out his mother’s priceless hairpins with one hand, the other reaching around to free the book on Calormene myths from her doubtlessly sticky or oily grip, “What, and who, gave you the idea that you were permitted to rummage through my things like a trashpicker?” As soon as he had moved, as soon as he spoke, she had jumped, twitching and jerking away, hopping free of the desk in a scramble, her hair falling down all around the gentle rounds of her shoulders. Grimacing, Caspian grabbed hold of his anger, containing it so his voice was soft, as he waved the bejeweled adornments in her direction, “And these are _not_ yours, and you will not _ever_ touch them again.”

She had gone still as a rabbit, watching him with large eyes as she carefully sat in his chair.

Susan watched Caspian move about the cabin, feeling sullen and bored, not understanding just _why_ he was in such a tizzy about the fact that she’d made a mess. Alright, yes, it was a mess, but she would have cleaned it up! She’d _meant_ to clean up earlier, but the book had been distracting and good, or at least something to engage her very idle mind that was in desperate need of some sort of intellectual stimulation. Around her he moved briskly, every motion tight in control, fussy even, and she wrinkled her nose, wanting to snort at him since he was acting like a tiny bit of exploration and play resulting in some mess within the cabin she’d been cooped up in, was the end of the world. Instead she made herself comfortable on the chair, or as comfortable as she could on the hard wooden, unpadded, armless thing, deciding to not hop on the much more inviting bed, as he may think it was some sort of invitation or other.

In the time it took to straighten everything back to customary order, every book in its alphabetical space, secure in the shelf with its stumbling block of a bar that would prevent all but the absolute wildest tossing of storm surges to dislodge them, every shirt or pair of trews on the floor, folded, and returned to neat rows and stacks inside drawers and not even a sock - if clean - outside of where it all belonged, Caspian’s anger had eased in force. Fixing everything had purchased him the breathing room to regain his equilibrium, allowing logic and reason to return to where they belonged in his mind. The cooling off had also given him the chance to carefully consider how he could punish his pet in a manner she would understand, take heed of, without doing her undue harm, nor unnecessary displays of irrational anger on his part, as it would only be a setback at best, or a future stumbling block to properly instructing her over the course of however long he kept her. She was an investment, and no matter how angry he was, acting upon anger when it could damage something he had put time, money, and effort into (more money at present than anything else, but it was only the first few days, money was first, and always easiest) was about the stupidest thing he could do, and Caspian knew that. So he had swallowed the initial flash of rage that had bloomed up from grounds made fertile by irritation by the information learned of today, and now, far calmer and collected, he firmly ordered her to his bed. No, he wouldn’t damage her, he wouldn’t do anything to make her balky in the future since that would waste time and make him devote energy to breaking her of such a behaviour if he set a precedent now of lashing out in mindless anger, but he _would_ punish her. If he didn’t, she would never learn, and that was as bad as having to shatter any spirit she contained.

...The piercings would be useful, they could hurt as much as they could feel good, and if effort to resist any urge that may cause damage was taken, then there would be nothing to worry about. Punishment meted out, lesson learned, future resentment avoided, and the disaster of ruining a priceless rarity averted. It was gratifying to see she had learned to at least listen when he told her to go to the bed, moving quickly, perhaps with even hints of eagerness, and Caspian withheld a snort - did she think he would _reward_ her as he had yesterday? That had been a demonstration, and this would be as well, merely different in what was presented.

Susan steeled herself, managed to be swift to do as he said, aware he was still irritated and she didn’t want to risk pushing him, not certain what would happen if he actually got angry. That didn’t mean she wanted to think about whatever touch he would give her, as she still couldn’t reconcile that in the moment, it felt terribly, sinfully wonderful, and it was even what she had sort of promised to do by accepting his proposal on Miraz’s ship to ‘be nice’ with her body for escape from her nightmare. However, she wasn’t comfortable with any of it, and the worst part was, Susan was afraid she would become comfortable with it, given in completely, and forget to have standards, to hold herself above becoming a wanton, fallen woman with no thought of self-respect or respectableness.

So, abed, waiting, she held still as she was unwrapped, struggling to keep her breathing calm and even, in spite of those thoughts, and in spite of the darker than usual, more difficult to read, expression on the captain’s face. Hands were on her knees, pressing them apart, revealing her to his gaze completely, and it was reflex, she tried to keep them tighter, closer, a brief lock, pointless she guessed, chewing her lip and closing her eyes for a moment to block out the sight of Caspian where he had been the night before, examining her, as the unbidden memory sent a flush that wasn’t entirely embarrassment through her. A tug at a sensitive ring jolted her back to open eyes, refocusing on Caspian, attention captured after having wandered, the admonishment to not look away was repeated as it had been many times the last few days, this time the dash of startling minor pain had worked to etch the reminder deeper. Maybe at some point it wouldn’t matter, she wouldn’t find it so impossible to keep looking, or, better yet, it could all be set aside without any of that being necessary.

Caspian waited a moment more, then lay several firm smacks in quick succession over the closed flesh of her vulva, but the fresh piercings would send nasty shots of pain without real damage or harm inflicted. His Kitten squealed, startled, legs immediately trying to close, but he kept a firm hold of her hip, positioned on his knees between spread thighs, and gave her nipple a twist, each thing done as lightly as possible, but he was aware that on such new wounds, in tender places, would be more than plenty to write the lesson of just what those adornments were for. Yes, beauty, yes, pleasure, but also control and punishment while not leaving any lasting, visible evidence of it to mar a thing of beauty and value. 

Arching over her, fingertips light over the platinum hoop in her nipple, Caspian gave his warning, instruction, carefully, firmly, so she wouldn’t forget or claim she hadn’t known better or what was expected, “You are vastly more valuable while pretty, and I prefer to keep you that way. But in the end, it does not particularly matter to me, so long as you are obedient.”

That night he didn’t call her to sit in his lap for dinner, and he didn’t allow her anything either beyond a cup of goat’s milk. Susan was actually grateful to not be called over to sit in his lap, but the keeping of food from her was unkind. As though his ‘pampering’ with the ripped hair, earrings in places not her ears that hurt and stung even now, followed by _purposefully_ inflicting pain on her not-earrings just because he got his shorts in a twist, was unfair, just plain mean and nasty. Worse, he ignored her too, and if it weren’t for the icy glare he shot her periodically while eating the dinner she was banned from, from her spot sulking on the bed, she would believe he had completely dismissed her from his mind utterly and totally because he was a callous man capable of that. Except he wasn’t entirely ignoring her at dinner, and the next morning after unpleasant, fitful sleep that had comprised of both of them keeping to fully separate sides of the bed, he had shot her more of those frozen glares, which was just bizarre because he was everything sunbaked or sun blackened, hot things, molten, and he was being all cold. Susan probably made up for it with her own unwavering angry stare, that felt hot to _her_ at least, like she could shoot beams of light out of her eyes at him to fry him to a crisp. Not like he would get any darker, but some charring would serve him right. 

After the breakfast she also wasn’t allowed to have any of, he told her to get dressed, and Susan gave the tent like black monstrosity he’d handed her the most disgusted look she could summon. “I didn’t have to wear anything like this the other day, I’ll bake in this, Caspian.”

Finger going to her chin, Caspian tilted his pet’s face back with a firm push up, “This is not then, now is it? Today you wear that, as I told you to. Now, hurry up, I wish to be done before the heat becomes another irritant I have no patience for.”

Not much later, on foot as they had been the other day, Caspian hadn’t opted to slow his stride just enough to accommodate the fact that he didn’t wish her piercings to become damaged or aggravated to a point it slowed her healing significantly as that would limit what use he could make of her for longer than absolutely necessary. To the bazaar was where he took her, the one he had gained his ill news from yesterday, the hike far enough to make her tired, but not enough to risk the quality of his pet’s goods. Once there, he slowed their pace to something akin to a leisurely stroll through gardens, or more likely a man out with his woman at a market intent on buying some trinket to keep the woman happy, he supposed. In some ways, maybe that wasn’t too far from the truth, but it would only be a bit of sweet to counter the extended punishment of her lesson, no dinner, and no breakfast, followed by the shock she would receive momentarily once he was satisfied it would prove its point. After that, yes, he would buy her a few things of her choice, to show her once more that _he_ was the source of all good things in her world now.

Finally able to get a decent glimpse of this city, this ‘Merikesh on the north eastern coast of Calormen’ Susan was torn between fuming on one side, so she could be mad at Caspian, let him know exactly how unhappy she was with her present treatment - because in spite of her reservations and resistance to some things, she _was_ ‘being nice’ to him in a highly inappropriate manner by allowing him so much freedom with her body, barely without a fight. On the other hand, she was drawn and yanked into the swirling strange white buildings with all the rainbow colours that relieved the starkness of it, except it was a backdrop for the absolute Technicolour insanity of everyone around them and their clothes. It was all she could do to not be swept aside in its tide, even with her limited scope of vision from the stupid tent-dress Caspian had made her wear this time, and she couldn’t help but cling to the captain’s arm that he had threaded through hers quite awhile ago.

His voice broke her dizzy reverie, “Harem girls, I know I have mentioned them, they live lives of absolute luxury. Beautiful clothes, jewelry, makeup, the company of similarly beautiful girls to ward off loneliness, waited upon hand and foot so that the damage of actual work never touches their flesh.” Susan’s attention was held by him, the absentminded description sounding like heaven as he bent over one stall’s wares, “Their only purpose is to be pleasing to the eye, to act as personal servants to their master, seeing to any of his needs, but there are frequently many girls in such a place for their master to choose from, so the burden of service is reduced, shared out. As for how often they must entertain their master in bed, I dare say that it would be infrequent in a place that could boast a harem of good size, such as say...one maintained by a Raj.”

Susan was glad he couldn’t see her face behind the thick veil’s muffle, even more glad that he also wasn’t looking, as her eyes had probably widened in hope and excitement. What he was describing was, by comparison to dealing with _him_ , really, truly, heaven. It was all she could hope for in this foreign place where she hadn’t any idea what direction to choose to reach safety and succor otherwise. But it wouldn’t due to let him know just how badly she wanted the life he had painted if her only choice was that or being subject to his whims, whatever they were.

“Formerly, the local Raj was in the habit of getting rid of the girls at nineteen, gifting them to some favourite guard or servant, minor merchant, whathaveyou, and, by all reports, such girls are considered favoured, varying from gifted concubine, to in some cases if the recipient was very pleased and wished to show it, one or two have even become full wives,” that wasn’t the best ending, but it was still better, it was still secure. 

Except Susan’s mind tripped over and repeated within the confines of her skull what he had said, before testing it out aloud, hoping for more information. “Formerly, as in he used to do this? What happens to them now?” He didn’t answer, instead he was selecting from a range of palettes of makeup, except it was shades she didn’t like, and she squeezed his bicep where she was still hanging on, since, for the moment, clarification wasn’t forthcoming, “I don’t like those colours on me, Caspian.”

“Very well then, you pick,” a relaxed sigh, unconcerned.

Susan began to actually look, but then the cawing of gulls got louder, distracting her, even though they had been an ever present song since the moment she first awoke on that beach a lifetime ago it felt like. Cages, cast iron cages or bands, it was too bright and just a little too high for her to see every detail, but it was ugly, ugly and meant to hold people without protection from the merciless elements. Inside each there were various amounts of ragged remains, some Susan could ignore, almost pretend they weren’t bones and limbs in the shape of people, but others were horrifying, terrifying, and she recoiled, jerking away, unable to turn her gaze from the sight of the wreckage being picked over by the sea birds. The newest was so fresh that if the skin hadn’t gone colours even she could see from her vantage in the market below, the lack of any response to the cruel beaks peck-peck-pecking, Susan would almost think her alive. 

Covering her unseen mouth, one that choked on a shriek that couldn’t be voiced, Susan’s eyes watered and teared at the life lost before her.

“That is what he does when he grows bored with them now, nineteen or not,” Caspian didn’t look her direction, but the way she was pressed to him, the weak shaking, the clinging, were indication or not. He paid for the makeup pallets she had seemed most interested in, as well as the ones he wanted her to have, and as he shouldered the small sack, he finally looked at her, jerking his chin towards one of the minor entrances into the grand palace’s outermost grounds, “Do you still wish to call for that guard over there? Be my guest, Kitten, I will not stop you.”

Tiny voice, distraught, she was looking at him, and he didn’t need to see her face to read her clearly in this, “Why-why show me this?”

“So you will know what could easily happen to you,” he patiently explained. “That is the life for girls such as yourself, one moment there is never a concern, until such a powerful person decides you have lost your appeal, and will think nothing of doing that or worse to an object, no matter how valued it once was, it is always fleeting.” She was frozen in place, unable to move, but Caspian moved them just enough as he spoke his reassurance, “You are a very high value commodity, and I have sunk a great deal of money into you, and I will do so many times. Your chances with me are far better, as I work hard for and value what I invest in. What you will find with me is a far better and reliable situation than you will find anywhere else. All I ask is that you behave, nothing more. Now - will you behave and be good?”

Jerky nodding which was all he had been looking for, just a bit of polite acquiescence and mutual understanding. 

Caspian found her hands where they dug and clutched at his arm with one of his, patting and stroking the paleness of them reassuringly, “That is a good Kitten. Now, a reward for you, one to remind you that you do have much value, and I see that. Come, come, you will be pampered until you forget this unpleasantness as anything but a memory of a lesson learned, an accord gained. I will press upon them to give you instruction in how to apply your makeup and other care items, so that even away from port you will be able to at least have some spoiling, no matter it comes from your own hands.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the middle of a move back to the States from Germany. Everything's a mess, but a bad bout of insomnia and restlessness and it being too hot, and airconditioning not being a big 'thing' here, left me restless....soooo, here's ch4 of the rework. Massively unbeta'd.

True to his word, Susan was pampered within an inch of her life even more than the last time. Meanwhile she was also instructed, shown which tool to use to rasp her feet, pare her nails, told which oils and unguents to apply to keep her hands soft. She was shown how to make the henna paste and roll it into a waxed paper cone so that it may be applied. It was too much to take in, all while mixed with the treatments, but at each stage she went through, a small box or bag was filled with copies of the basic items and tools being used on her. The last of them was gathered up, and placed in a flexible woven basket, along with several gauzy garments she had been taught - though her own attempts were clumsy, while deemed good enough for a start - how to wind and pleat the saris. Susan got the feeling that the dresses were handmedowns, not exactly _gifted_ by the women, but put forth because she clearly had little of her own at the moment, and the proprietor, Niab, as well as Caspian, hadn’t thought to add a few changes of clothes to the list of ‘essentials’ she would need to be considered pleasing. 

She hopped onto the massage table, as it would be the last portion of pampering she was informed, for after it, she would then be dressed, hair re-done, and makeup applied with instruction. When the facial masks, creams, powders, and such had been done, they hadn’t been idle, relaxing moments, as before each step was taken, she was shown and told what each thing was to do, and what order it all must be done. It was too much to remember, and Susan wished she had a pencil and paper to take notes to keep track of it all, but that wasn’t likely to happen, so she made due. At least each section of personal care items were kept together and separate from one another - feet and hands had gone in one specific box, body, face, so on, so forth. Not even during the down period when she had to remain motionless so that the henna paste could sit and steep on her for several hours had been idle. One of the women drilled her on the contents and purpose of each kit, opening them and asking her which went first, making her repeat her lessons over and over again. Hopefully most of it stuck, for asking Caspian what she was supposed to do would likely be useless. 

This was what survival looked like at present, Susan didn’t like it one bit, but she was unwilling to give up. There was too much confusion, fear, general upheaval, for her to look at it all too closely, and until she won breathing space, until she learned the rules of this place, she would have to do her best and muddle along. Because she was roiling with that tension, it took what seemed forever for the massage to take hold and urge her to relaxation. Eventually it worked its magic, leaving Susan drowsy, drifting, not thinking, not concentrating, clinging to the mood of the moment. 

Caspian had left his pet in Niab’s care for the whole day, though he had, around the midday meal, gone to check on things. The eunuch had informed him that his Kitten was still being seen to, instructed, and that those sorts of things took time. If Caspian wanted her taught even passably considering her obvious extreme ignorance of even the basics, it would take until evening. The fat man had shaken his head, saying miracles were the venue of the gods, but his girls would do their best in the short time given. That had irked Caspian, though he shouldn’t be surprised, women’s things took a great deal of effort to maintain as he well recalled from his tenure as scullery boy in Hassim’s brothel, and had, often enough, been drafted into assisting the whores. And it wasn’t like Hassim’s brothel had catered to fine tastes, so the whores, male and female, weren’t expected to be as finely presented as Caspian intended her to be, but Hassim’s brothel also hadn’t been so downmarket as to require no showcasing of the merchandise. As such, Caspian knew quite well that what he was asking of Niab to pass along, was unfair. So, without a complaint beyond stating he wished them to do their best, but they only had until two hours after sunset to do what they could. 

It would have to do until another port of call was had that lasted for a reasonable amount of time. 

When he returned after spending some time in a joyhouse of middling quality, listening to further gossip, news of the region, and any other thing open for discussion, Caspian was resolved that they would be leaving on the morrow. Merikesh was too great a risk, at least so long as he wished to keep his acquisition. There was too much potential profit in keeping her, training her, to waste her on the Raj Merikesh. That’s what he told himself to quiet the wary voice inside warning him that it was stupid to put _Ysobel_ , her crew, and himself, at risk by keeping Kitten in the city a single moment longer than necessary. Yes, it was true, not all his goods were sold, and he hadn’t made quite as many purchases as he would have liked - but that’s why there were other ports of call. He wasn’t rushing out of Merikesh to keep his prize safe for any other reason than profit, and his own crew’s care. (Of course the value of keeping her for himself permanently, wasn’t easily calculated, it would take time to completely assess that and affix some sort of figure to it. The monetary rewards of keeping her, training her, then selling her off once he was bored, were more readily come up with, and so he held onto that as the most pragmatic of outcomes, one that made it worth the risk of danger she was at the moment.)

Seeing her on the massage table, already having informed the piercer that he wished for one last addition to his pet, Caspian let the sternness of the day’s information and its resulting decisions, be smoothed away. She was mostly asleep, sighing here and there, and while Caspian came over, a clay cup of cold fruit juice in hand, he once more moved to rest a hip at the head of the table. While he wasn’t particularly happy that she hadn’t already finished with this portion of the services and at the very least begun on the makeup and hair portion, he wasn’t displeased with the image she presented. 

Stroking the underside of her jaw, along her neck lightly, and then back again, to her chin, Caspian watched her face scrunch on a small yawn, neck arching to receive the sort of caress he’d grant a cat. Lips twitching as she thrummed a contented purr, those astonishing eyes blinked open at him, syrupy and relaxed.

Feeling afloat, comfortable, soothed, Susan found a smile of greeting forming while Caspian’s fingers repeated the trailing touch, but then she grimaced as a thought struck her. “The last time you came when I was having a massage, I wound up with holes put where they don’t belong.”

And sure enough, she sucked in a sharp breath, just as he agreed, “True.”

“Just how many more will I be subjected to _this_ time?” doing her best to not sound angry, scared, or demanding - Susan didn’t want to risk encouraging him into some sort of decision to turn her into a pincushion. Besides, while she wasn’t thinking on it directly, the horrors of the day’s morning were fresh enough to leave her even more wary of how easily she could be made to hurt. So, no encouragement either by making him irritated enough to ‘punish’ her by ordering more earrings in places they didn’t belong, or by sounding eager for them. Or...well...who knew what his logic was? 

She was cross, though if Caspian wasn’t mistaken, there was trepidation, perhaps even fear, of more, and he chose to reassure her, “That is all for there. Adornment is meant to enhance, not overpower. There is little more that could be done in that region without it being gaudy.” Taking a sip of juice, shoulder hitching, and he traced over the fine lines of her features, “There are other, more appropriate places -”

Interrupting, remembering that that one had been the worst, hand fluttering to cover the unpierced breast, forgetting to not give him a reason for ire, she pleaded, “Not my other nipple?”

Shrugging, Caspian dismissed the thought, “For many, it would be considered unfinished, but I find the asymmetry interesting.” Adding, since she shivered, worried, “Yes, that was the only other piercing purchased for you today.” Backing away so she was free to sit up, he assisted the slave in getting her up and then off the table, “However, you must take extra care of this new piercing, keeping it free of irritation or playing with it until it has had at least a little time to heal.”

In another room, one better lit, one with the (necessary) extravagance of a full length mirror - one Caspian recognized as being from Telmar, though he wasn’t the one to have sold it to Niab, poor bastard was probably overcharged for it in that case - Caspian was seated, continuing to nurse his juice, watching the much slowed down dance of makeup application and hair being pined, coiled, and braided. It was a scene from his youth, in a strange sense, it was comforting for that familiarity. A new whore being taught, or himself and one or two of the other young helpers selected to learn how to prepare a prostitute for work. Hassim’s middle of the road establishment prided itself on variety in spite of its place in the hierarchy of the sex trade, and made it a point to instruct even the ugliest of the whores on what clientele of many stripes may find acceptable. That learning made certain that Hassim never had to go outside of his workers to gain them the basics of care to keep them appealing to customers. It also was a boon of education to those who would at least have obtained some skill to sell other than their bodies. Hair had been one of the few aspects that Caspian had been any good at, and it had kept his fingers nimble, many of the whores coming to him, pestering him for this or that style in a free moment. Back then, it had been better than washing pots, or changing linens, and it had often gained him a bit of repayment from the working girls - sometimes nothing more than a thank you, others, a small coin, or a tiny bauble he could pawn. 

Niab peeked in on his customer and supplier, who was watching the girls do what they could with the bizarre looking chit. It was odd that Caspian had brought her back so soon, especially with what Niab had heard on the streets the last year, with Raj Merikesh’s appetite for the exotic, he could understand why the man was in a hurry. For a Telmarine, he wasn’t a bad sort, and as a people, Telmarines had odd notions about the upkeep and care of slaves, so Niab would wager the man had no intention of selling the queer eyed-skinned-haired girl to Raj Merikesh, it would prick his honour. She was an investment, a risk, oh, Niab could see the worth in her, knew that there would be a market for her, even uneducated and raw she would fetch unseemly prices. But it would be the height of rudeness to sell her completely unpolished, and it wasn’t as though the Telmarine could teach her himself. Which was why Niab had told the women to do all that they could with their instructions, as quickly as possible. Caspian was an excellent contact, reliable to a fault, and Niab knew full well that the Telmarine had often passed along word of the quality of his establishment, so that more custom came his way. With his business and reputation on the line, as well as a man who was as much a friend as Niab generally allowed himself, he knew to keep his mouth shut and do what could be. Comforted by having worked through the whys of why the generally level-headed youth would be taking the risks of keeping that girl, and even why the man was suddenly in a hurry, Niab let the bit of curtain he had been peeping through, fall closed. If by some unfortunate mischance anyone ever questioned him about possible exotics coming through his bathhouse, he would disavow all knowledge - because Raj Merikesh’s decrees that any, and all, such female flesh be brought to his attention, it meant that Niab not having done so immediately, could result in the loss of his own life. Now, if only he had thought of that _earlier_ when the girl was first brought... So he took the time to mentally come up with what to say in the unlikely event anyone asked - mostly for the sake of his life, followed by his reputation, and lastly, upon the raport he’d built up with his best supplier.

Just because sunset had come hours ago, didn’t mean that Merikesh had gone to bed. No, there were still a few vendors open, ones close to docks, hoping for a few sales to sailors with coin to part with. Caspian made a pitstop at one selling various cushions and linens of passable quality - the man must not have made enough during the day, and was hungry for even the last bit of custom. It worked in Caspian’s favour, and he purchased several pillows, and a long, sausage shaped pillow. 

\--

Immediately after the execution of Miraz’s sailor at Raj Merikesh’s feet, guards had been sent out to pass the word of the rare creature that had been described. As there were many, many places such a creature could be - from joyhouse, to brothel, to bathhouse, or even quietly sold off already beneath the Raj’s nose, there was much ground to cover. Also, an order to fetch the Telmarine captain, Miraz, for a meeting, but the man was proving illusive for the moment, being about whatever paltry business such men did. 

It was by mere accident that the guards in the quadrant housing Niab’s bathhouse had gotten there just before the night’s closing. By then, there had been no customers, the last ones gone just barely an hour ago. But they had been described as plain, just a normal Calormene woman being prepared for marriage. The bald man lamented the fact that nothing interesting had happened in almost a year, not even a mildly exotic Telmarine woman, let alone something that sounded straight out of an opium dream like the one the guards described. 

Those particular guards had been avoided, missed, and the searchers were methodical, meaning they had yet to reach the docks.

\---

There were last minute deliveries to be seen to, or so Caspian had informed her that morning, and that they would be casting off in the late morning. It meant he was gone, and she was cooped up, with nothing to do. It wasn’t even dawn yet, that there were things being loaded at this hour, was strange, but Susan only knew what she was told in this case.

Aware she was disobeying him, Susan got dressed, seeking the deck, seeking air, seeking anything beyond the confines of the cabin. She was certain it was quite pleasant, but not for hours upon hours at a time. Likely the lout hadn’t considered how trapped a body could feel when penned in like that, since _he_ was free to come and go, and in general, didn’t seem to spend much time in the cabin, always out and about, the dratted man.

It wasn’t like she was going to run off, besides, so dressed, she went out on deck, watching the hustle and bustle that was happening on a few of the ships around them. Perhaps ships that would be leaving generally had these early morning sorts of rush on the days they were to leave port? Anyway, it appeared to be common, in spite of the fact that many more ships were quiet so early. A few of the dockhands caught sight of her, from the corner of her eye she saw them point, which was an uncomfortable feeling, but she was on _Ysobel_ , under Caspian’s protection - there wasn’t anything to fear. At least, nothing beyond Caspian himself. 

If she could hear those whispers, she would be worried. The rapid fire murmurings that she fit the description that had spread like fire through the city, driven by the searching guards, it had raced ahead of them, into areas they were only just now readying to search. But she couldn’t, she could only feel disgusted by the way she was being stared at, whispered about, even from afar. It made her flesh crawl, but the ship was safe, and she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of knowing their behaviour upset her.

Caspian was returning from having checking with the delivery master that the last of the goods he’d ordered were loaded up, when he was stopped by a trio of guards. Internally he was tense, straining like a dog on a leash, the thrill of danger and sneaking his way through the danger presented, moved through him. Outwardly, he was cordial, friendly, his typical self with all guards, no sign, no flicker of misdirection. Nothing suspicious about him at all, no nervousness. 

All smiles, he answered them, “A woman’s company is always welcome, except for the fact that they are much trouble, especially upon the sea. They are best when they can be left behind, where they cannot drive a man to madness when there is work to be done. Some may bring a woman or three along on a voyage, but they are more patient men, than me.” Shrugging apologetically, “No, count me out of that sort of thing, I have no truck with women upon my ship.”

The guard nodded, grimacing, hawking to spit once, “Trouble they are, certainly. Thank you for your time, Captain.”

Keeping his eyes upon the guards he gave a light, respectful bow. As he straightened though, he saw the trio had yet to move off. It was at the same time as the third guard had been sweeping his gaze over the docks before halting upon _La Ysobel_ , and the man was already leaning over to whisper to his compatriots, gaze yet fixated upon what was behind Caspian. Daring a glance of his own, he could have spit, for in clear view of one and all, forebears save him, was his Kitten. Still, _Ysobel’s_ lines had already been cast off, the ferrying boats already starting their business, and there was no easy stopping the process. Fortunately Caspian was accustomed to hopping to his ship as it left, since it was a bit of play he enjoyed, so none of his men had expected him to do any differently than usual. Lucky him, as that meant he and his crew were home free, so long as they made it out of the port. His pet was in grave trouble, however, and would need punishing for having disobeyed him, particularly since it put himself, his ship, and his crew, in danger. 

Calling from the deck once he was firmly there, to the guards who were standing gapemouthed, uncertain what to do, “See? Did I not say women are trouble?” Saluting them, “Do not worry, she will be thrown to the sharks soon!”

Their curses were loud, but muted by the din of his pulse as he turned on his Kitten, grabbing the back of her hair, bodily hauling her behind him, her hands locked over his wrist as she cried out in pain and shock. To his cabin he hauled her, not letting up while she stumbled, hunched over, whimpering, and once the door was open, he threw her in, full force, leaving her little enough time to catch herself on her hands as she fell. With a snarl, he slammed the door behind him.

Susan was gasping, terrified, head smarting, her neck aching, but it wasn’t over, as a fist was in her hair once more, yanking her head back so she could see the rage on the captain’s face, his eyes black pools of hot anger, “Do you know how many lives you risk because you cannot follow a simple order?! _Mine_ , yours, my _crew’s_! I am under **no** obligation to place my life or theirs on the line for you and your stupid mistakes!” Free hand rising up, Susan watched it, knowing he was going to smack her, its threat was unmistakeable, and as he shook her head by the hair, “Tell me _one_ single reason why I should not have let those guards take you!”

She was afraid, but she was angry too. Impotent fury of her own welled up, futile, daring, self-preservation gone. She had no answer for him. None. Up until this very moment, he had been...perhaps not ‘nice’, certainly not pleasant, but he hadn’t been...this. This terrible menacing thing before her, and in that moment, she could full well believe he and Miraz were related. Caspian simply hid the monster better. Perhaps, in light of that, meeting her fate with the sharks would be better than living in this awful shadow.

Hand still up to strike, Caspian waited, furious, and the fact that he could clearly recognize rage of her own in her visage only made him more incensed. Spitting a curse, seeing she wouldn’t be answering him, he shoved her away, letting her fall fully back to the floor. Baring his teeth at her, Caspian forced himself to turn away before he did something he couldn’t undo, and stormed out - both to distract himself by doing something, even if his presence was unnecessary for leaving the port, and to keep from giving into his boiling emotions.

On deck, he ordered the crew to unfurl their sails early, to catch the wind, even though it cut off the wind of other ships nearby that had been in the process of being tugged out to the water where more wind moved. There was an order to these things that Caspian was willfully disregarding, essentially cutting in line, which would win him no favours, but his need trumped theirs in his esteem. Ignoring the handful of angry shouts he could hear from other ships, Caspian ordered reefing and unfurling by turns to catch even the tiniest scrap of air to fill the bellies of sails. Curt words resulted in the haul-ropes that the tugboats had hooked onto _Ysobel_ for the manuvering to its place in line, were prized free, or, in the case of one, hacked at until it came loose. Hours later, open water was fully flowing underneath _Ysobel’s _keel, and Caspian allowed himself to relax.__

__Or at least he allowed the worst of his tension to cease ruling him. It had served its purpose, or perhaps the action of sailing and focusing himself on winning his ship and crew free had served its purpose of letting the urgent need to act fade. Turning the wheel to his sailmaster, Caspian drew in a deep breath, uncertain what to do with the problem what was in his cabin. He had deprived her of food already, and didn’t think it wise to go another day doing so. While he was no longer driven to the unreasoning need to lash out at her, it was still true she required punishment for her dangerous, foolish behaviour - he wasn’t willing to risk another mistake like that. Depriving her of food was out, and tying her to the bed was too much like what his uncle had done to her, so that was also off the table for possible punishments._ _

__Coming to his quarters far too soon, since it meant he hadn’t come up with a solution as yet, he opened the door anyway. Best to face this head on, then. Entering, a scowl found him, as he couldn’t see his pet at all. But he _did_ hear a noise, and, closing the door once more, he searched it out, finding her curled into a tight ball, sobbing brokenly, underneath his desk, hidden by the chair she had dragged in after her in the space there. _ _

__Yanking the chair out, he fell to a squat, snapping, “What do you think you are doing there?”_ _

__Under his desk, she jerked, a hard flinch, startled blue eyes looking up at him from the mass of her hair, face red and puffy. Bedraggled, when that morning, very early that morning, she had been just fine. Now she was a pathetic drowned something._ _

__With a choking hiccup, “When are you going to throw me to the sharks?”_ _

__Taken aback, Caspian rocked back on his heels, blinking rapidly. She honestly thought he would throw her to the sharks? After all that _money_ he’d spent? He would sooner slice off one of his testicles with a dull blade. A small fortune had been spent on her, and more would be spent on her in the future, which could only be recouped if he sold her, and if, or when, he did that, it would only be after she had been polished to the finest possible quality. And the chit thought he would throw all that away? Absolutely absurd._ _

__Dragging in a bracing breath, “I am not going to throw you to the sharks.” Explaining as calmly as he could manage, “I do not simply throw my coin away. If you prove a poor investment, I will swallow it.” Levelling a finger at her, he continued, “You, however, _are_ going to make it up to me.” There was a flash in her gaze, hope, fear, something or other, he still hadn’t gained a handle on reading her yet, so he held his hand up, fingers spread, and began his list, tucking a finger as he named each requirement. “One, when I instruct you to stay in the cabin, you fucking stay in the cabin. Two, when I tell you to be completely covered, you will be completely covered, remaining that way, until I say otherwise. Third, you will actually give your actions some thought before carrying them out instead of being a complete featherhead. Such antics I expect from a five year old, not a woman grown. Even though you are my pet, you _will_ be expected to act with some awareness of others, responsibility for yourself, and due decorum.”_ _

__Checking to be certain she understood him, she was yet curled up in a small ball, much like the cat he continued to compare her to. A completely miserable, pathetic cat. And she was watching him, her large eyes watery and bloodshot from her tears, a fine tremble in her limbs quaking with her upset. It was a peculiar sight, and it made him uncomfortable, prodding him to pity, so he softened. At least inwardly, outwardly, he maintained the stern demeanor - it wouldn’t do for her to think him someone she could sway from his course._ _

__“And four, you will do as I say from now on.” Spelling it out in the smallest words possible what had already been self-evident and discussed prior, though perhaps it had been too roundabout for her, “You are _property_. My property, at that. You are an object to be bought and sold at my discretion. It is how it would be, no matter whose company you were in - Miraz, myself, anyone. You do not have a say in that, no matter whatever you have known before, that is over.” An angry flash, then shame, gaze flicking away, small hands fisting, then a hiccuping shudder wracked her, but he watched her force herself to look at him once more. Reaching out, he cupped her chin, thumb stroking her cheek, “It would be better for my purse to sell you to a Raj, or a Telmarine Lord...but I will not be doing that.” Squeezing her chin lightly, “Do _not_ give me reason to regret that decision. Do you understand, Kitten?”_ _

__She nodded, swallowing thickly as she sniffled._ _

__Moving to stand, he waved her from her hiding place, “Now, come, get up.”_ _

__Susan was shaking as she crawled on hands and knees out from under the heavy desk before making herself stand, having to use the desk’s edge to haul herself up straight. As she struggled to do that, the discarded chair was put right and moved close to its usual position, Caspian sitting in it, and she found him grabbing her hand gently, tugging her towards him, and Susan didn’t know what she wanted to do, or what she felt. Upset, that’s all she could say for certain. He wasn’t going to be killing her, he wasn’t going to be hitting her, beating her, or, well, at least he hadn’t, even when he had been in that rage that had been so black earlier she had believed him capable of anything. That could, of course change, who was she to say? She didn’t know him well enough to say. A week? At most? It wasn’t enough time to know those things. So she shook, doing her best to stand straight, to look him in the eye, hoping to read his intent, hoping the worst was over._ _

__The tug was followed up with a scoot closer of the chair, the other hand gentle as it moved to her face once more, urging her to come fully to him, and Susan shivered when he pulled her in close, into his lap, between his spread thighs so her shoulder was pressed to his chest, while her rump was on one of his thighs. Finding her head tilted just enough so that she was forced to hold his intent gaze, “It is not my way to punish that which is undeserved. I suppose it is possible I did not make myself clear enough earlier to how things were, you are an unfamiliar creature to me, just as I, and those you have found here, are also unfamiliar, so the meanings may not have been as well communicated as I believed. But now I should have made myself clear to you, so you must not incite my anger like this again.” The words were hard, the tone kind in counter to it. Ugly words, but his bearing, his touch, his everything, focused and oddly considerate. Curiously, calloused fingertips smoothing over her salt sore cheek, “I assume this - all of this - is foreign to you?”_ _

__She nodded, but couldn’t find the breath to list what was foreign. The sex, slavery, pain, being treated as an object d’art, so on, so forth, ad infinitum. Susan wanted to say, to list, just...she was simply too drained to._ _

__A long, deep inhale, the hold on her firming and gentling at once, tucking her in even closer, pulling her head to rest in the crook of his neck, while he hooked his chin over her head. It was apologetic and warning in one, “Then you shall be forgiven this one time. Please, do not forget your lesson, it has been a harsh one. Remember that being a good Kitten is far more rewarding than being a bad one.” Prompting, “You understand?”_ _

__Another slow tear slipped over a cheek as he ducked his face enough to check her expression as she nodded. Caspian wished to curse at it, she was yet upset, still tight against him like a taut bowstring at the same time as being utterly limp, unresisting. How foreign her origins must be for her to find this so difficult. By turns, he too found it difficult, the unspoken rules of his society and those that the seas the Sons of Telmar sailed touched upon, all of them were fairly straightforward in their ways, with universal understandings in this or that area. But she had none, and it was uncomfortable to have to make her understand the way things were here - it wasn’t just to serve his preferences, this was how life was, and she must learn the ropes, the way of things, so that she blended in and was made safer that way._ _

__Sighing lightly, “You may speak now, you know.”_ _

__“I don’t wish to,” hoarse whisper, lids falling closed, face tucking to the side, doing what she could to hide away._ _

__Pinching the bridge of his nose, hoping his patience and empathy could hold, “And why do you not wish to speak?”_ _

__The shakes had faded at some point, still, periodic quakes moved through her, and the one that came was stronger than the others, as far as he could tell. “Y-you...yelled, you were...” Fingers clenching until they were bloodless and whiteknuckled, croaking, “Terrifying. Yelling. Screaming. S-so angry. You threw me, you h-hurt me. Threatened me, and raised your hand. Monstrous - w-when I didn’t know. I didn’t know...and y-you...” A heave and she sought to push away from him, but it was weak, drained of strength, so he continued to hold her, drawing her back into the space she had put between them. “I didn’t know why you were so mad, I _still_ don’t, you were so evil, I _wanted_ you to throw me to the sharks then, safer there, devoured and in their stomachs, than with you.”_ _

__Wincing, she couldn’t see it, and Caspian tilted his head back, silently counting to ten a few times. She was like dealing with a troublesome child, except _worse_. She was a troublesome child with no idea as to how the world worked, so sheltered that simplest of dangers escaped her understanding, and she’d stumble in naively, unthinking. It was maddening, irritating...and...frankly, Caspian wasn’t certain how to counter that without breaking her to the saddle so to speak. While seeking to formulate a response, his thoughts were interrupted by a timely knock upon his door. Perhaps over a full breakfast the bad could be eased. At the least, it would purchase him a little longer to figure out where to start._ _

__Gently he pushed her off of his lap so that he may get the door. Diggit’s hands were no doubt too full to get the door himself, the knock had come from low on the door, delivered most likely by a kicking foot. The Badger was a thoughtful, intuitive sort, and liked to cure all ails and stressful moments with good food, which hopefully meant that whatever tray brought, was well laden beyond Caspian’s customary light breakfasts. Glad when he saw that yes, the Badger had been his customarily thorough self, the Talking Beast busily set out the meal, before toddling off with typical businesslike verve. Brisk and efficient - just how Caspian liked things. Just like how he ran things. Everyone in his crew knew their tasks, knew what was expected of them, and gave it, but Diggit and Trumpkin were the best of the lot, able to anticipate and adjust without any guidance, so that things were maintained and as smooth as possible._ _

__In the time it took Diggit to set things out, Caspian’s pet had retreated to the bed, sitting there with her knees up, arms around them, chin resting atop the upturned, skirt covered limbs. Considering the situation, Caspian won patience for himself - his pet was new to this, she had yet to learn her place in the scheme of things, to learn this life, and everything in between. Of course there would be these unfortunate instances while she learned, he shouldn’t expect her to just know. Those who became part of Caspian’s crew were rarely unseasoned, or if inexperienced, unaware of what was to be asked of them, they were at least aware and ready to learn, having a grasp of how the world work at the very least. This was not so for his pet, according to her words, but most importantly, according to her deeds, her behaviours. A few short days wasn’t enough to have taken in and learned enough to tread water in the vast tumultuous seas of the world. Now, if Caspian could just remember that the next time she did something damn foolish..._ _

__Capable of seeing the irony that he, himself, was learning new and unfamiliar things, Caspian considered the fact that he had been naive himself. Sitting down at his desk, he considered his pet momentarily. Never had he considered that this sort of thing would be a monumental task. He had been counting upon his pet being at least somewhat wise to the world, so that he had that foundation to work from with her. So now, now he was learning that this undertaking wasn’t going to be anywhere near so simple as he initially believed. Oh yes, he had known _effort_ , _time_ , and most certainly _money_ would be required, but this...this was unfamiliar territory and he must be cautious if he was to keep from failure, or breaking his pet. _ _

__Taking the first step, he patted his lap, “Come.”_ _

__Brows furrowing, puzzled, “You’re going to let me eat?” Susan stared at him, earlier he had felt no problem depriving her of food when he was mad at her, and today he had been wrathful - why would he feed her after that? It didn’t make any sense._ _

__Waving her to him, “Yes, now come.”_ _

__Stubbornly, wary of some trick, or test, “Why?”_ _

__“Come here,” firmer, less inviting, the veneer of polite request turning towards the requirement of an order._ _

__Seeing nothing for it, a request she could question, an order - which was on that list of rules he had gone over ever so recently - allowed her no leeway to disobey. And she was in no position, no mood, to deal with upsetting him. Who knew where that would lead? Susan forced herself from the bed, pushing her messy hair from her face, hair that had been beautiful last night, hair that had still been relatively orderly that morning, it seemed an age ago._ _

__Shuffling to him, she couldn’t disobey, but she could question, she needed more information, she needed to learn the rules, the unspoken ones, the whys, the hows, so she made herself ask, “You were angry, last time you were angry, you withheld food. This time, you were angry, and now you’re feeding me.” Unspoken, what was different?_ _

__Dark eyes hooded, there was only a hint of irritation in his reply, “I could if you wished it.” Gritting his teeth, Caspian instructed her once more, “Now sit.”_ _

__With a tired sigh, she took her place in his lap, but far up, on the edge of his knee. A frustrated growl broke free and Caspian hauled her to her proper place, one where he could hold her, but also one that didn’t strain his knee too. She was stiff as a board, tensing at the growl, one that he had only meant to be exasperated, not fearsome. It hadn’t sounded fearsome to him, but right now things were precarious._ _

__A sigh of his own issued, and he squeezed her to him briefly, “It is uncomfortable for you to sit there - for both of us.” Seeking to at least lighten the air, “For me, it is a weight upon an already oft-abused joint, for you, a very boney knee digging into your ass, and I have yet to meet someone who thought that a pleasing sensation, as not a one of my bedmates have had anything kind to say about my knobby knees, sharp elbows, jutting ribs or hip bones when contact with them was had.”_ _

__There was no relaxing of her stiffness, but she remained right where he had placed her. He had hoped that his explanation was good enough, as there was no way he would state the fact that he preferred her tight and close, as it felt like she fit there. Since there was nothing more to say on that front, Caspian picked up a fresh, halved fig, sprinkling a pinch of pink salt on it, before holding it to her mouth. Holding his breath, he waited for her to bite, to take the offering. When she licked her bottom lip, the customary action she did when readying to take a bite of something, a wash of relief moved through him, a tentative flow, yes, still, it was relief. When she finished the fig, he offered her the chai, and she drank of that willingly enough, and he didn’t press when she broke from the cup’s rim, startling back._ _

__Susan sputtered at the spiciness of the drink. It wasn’t like hot peppers spicey, but more of a...spiced-spicey. Cautiously she touched the side of his hand, urging him to bring the cup back for another taste, and she found she liked it once she was prepared for the riot of flavours. She found that the mug’s contents were gone in short order, but Caspian poured a refill, leaning forward, taking her with him with the motion, his other arm remaining locked around her middle, holding her to him. Not wanting to risk acting for the moment, uncertain of what his reaction would be, Susan simply watched as he awkwardly buttered one of the thick flat bread things, then spooned and spread some thick paste or jam over it. When he held it up to her, she obediently took a bite, and after each bite she took, he took one for himself. So it went, him trading off which of them was being fed by his hand, no matter how odd that it was her he served first of whatever thing. If she was property, if she was something that only was allowed whatever he suffered to grant her - why was he feeding her carefully and first? Shouldn’t it be her eating the scraps or leftovers after he’d had his fill?_ _

__Once the fruit filled meal was through, Caspian leaned back, pleased his Kitten had been obedient the whole time. Only if she didn’t like something was it turned away from, and even then, only subtly. For all that she seemed to like fruit, kiwi got a sour face. Meanwhile, he rather enjoyed kiwi, but usually didn’t stock much of it - it wasn’t a fruit that travelled well, so whatever was purchased, was for the ship’s consumption. And while most Telmarines Caspian knew ate only the green part of the kiwi, he liked the fuzzy rind, too, which was how those of the Lone Islands ate them._ _

__Still, while she had been stiff, she had eaten her fill, hadn’t protested...so on, so forth. After all the bad of the morning, and now this momentary peace, he needed to reinforce and reward, to win through her doubting. Caspian must show, must remind her of - pausing, _Less than a week has not been much time to display the rewards of good behaviour. Fuck, forebears grant me strength._ Fine, he must accumulate displays of reward, of good, of pleasant, to counter the ugliness of punishment. She had been unaware, innocent, of intentional wrongdoing, not that it mitigated the wrong, but it did mean he had forgiven her, believing that everything was all straightened out...and on his end, it basically was. On her end, from her view... Which was _not_ a familiar line of thought Caspian would entertain. _ _

__Before he had to go call for someone to fetch Diggit to take away the plates, the Badger had returned, which meant he could more easily pass along the instruction to set up a small tarp awning out of direct sun. A blanket or two to soften the roughness of the deck, this was ordered quietly, not making a production of it. While his back was turned, his Kitten had yet again returned to the neutral territory of the bed, which did seem strange for a moment, until the practicalities of his quarters were remembered. It wasn’t like there was anywhere for her to sit, any place for her beyond bed, floor, or his single chair._ _

__Alone once more, Caspian went to sit beside her, “Would you like to sit outside, Kitten?”_ _

__Expression sharpening he found himself examined, distrust an easy emotion to identify at least, “If that’s your way of asking me if I’m of a mind to jump overboard, the answer’s no. If you want me dead, then you’ll get no help from me on that front, you’ll have to sully your hands yourself.”_ _

__Susan watched as his brows drew down in storm clouds, steel entering his voice, when a moment or so ago, it had been...civil, diplomatic, “Have I not already told you that I would not be throwing you to the sharks?”_ _

__His intentions were either clear, or unclear, he was either being truthful, or he was dissembling, and Susan had - as of waking this morning, thought she had some grasp of which was which with him - difficulty believing in either. Prodding, “Then why else would you let me out? I mostly get to stay right here,” patting the mattress emphatically, “if I want to not make you angry. It’s the only spot that has any reasonable chance of keeping me out of trouble. Your offers of outings result in some fairly unpleasant outcomes. Embarrassment and pain from that salon, or the really interesting terror of being shown a dead body and being told that I’d be next if I didn’t do what you want, and when I stupidly thought it wasn’t so bad to go outside on my own, I’m threatened, tossed around, bruised, and in general shown how very much I’m at the mercy of someone I don’t know who’s already shown he’s full well capable of butchery. The only way I know to keep to your rules, is to stay right here, it’s the only place I’ve seen so far that keeps me from any of those fates. I don’t know what you want from me, I don’t understand it, so this is my safe bet right here.” Justifying her stance, her questions, “And if my asking all this makes you angry, then pooh on you, and fie, and bite my thumb at you, since I’ve no other way of finding out what the bloody hell is going on, or where the traps are - _before_ I set you off.”_ _

__Watching as his brow furrowed deeper, it moved from dark clouds of potential anger, to ones of complete confusion. “I took you to a salon. _Twice_. That was pleasant.”_ _

__“If you count being stripped naked by strangers, not being told what’s going to happen at most any step of the way, and then, without so much as a by-your-leave, sharp objects put in delicate places, then we have quite different notions of what ‘pleasant’ is,” scooting back on the bed, so her back was to the wall. Before he could counter, she added, “Next on your agenda was hauling me to see that poor dead girl, after giving me false hope, then daring me to run. That was a vile and cruel thing to do, and I’ve no idea why you would think showing that to me, then tossing me once more to a place where I’m nothing more than a piece of meat, made fun of because I don’t know any of the things they know -” she paused, sucking in a breath, forcing herself to detached calm. “Threaten, terrorize, then toss aside to be played with, so I’m more appealing to you. You’ve made it quite clear that I’m to submit, to accept whatever’s done to me upon your order, since it’s better than what another would do.” Unable to continue looking at him, Susan deflated, “Your point has been made, I stay right here, that’s my place.”_ _

__The large hands snagged one of hers, sandwiching it between his, hearing how she viewed what he had done was... It was _not_ what he had meant. No, well, yes, at least on scaring her about how dangerous the world was, showing her that outside of his protection, she had few prospects that held anything remotely good. He had meant it to contrast, to show her how well he treated her. Forebears, she was fragile - no, sheltered. For if she was completely fragile, she wouldn’t even be saying those things, she would break and be completely meek, shaking and shuddering to do whatever he uttered. _ _

__Searching for something to make her see, to admit, something that she felt was nice that he had done, “Was the salon entirely bad?”_ _

__Her eyes were on her hand in his, “Scary, they wouldn’t let me wash myself, they touched me, they -” she sighed, “none of it made sense until one of the women explained. And they still thought me silly for being frightened. For being confused. They were just quieter about it. They didn’t mean to be unkind, they didn’t mean to make me feel awful. Once I realized that, and what was going on...I...I suppose it was alright.”_ _

__It wasn’t in him to admit something like it, but he figured it was best to get it out of the way, “Nor did I mean for you to be any of those things. A bathhouse visit is a thing to be enjoyed, a private salon outing, a rare treat, where the body is taken care of by others, in detail. A rare thing for all but the very well off. If I had an idea that it was a concept so foreign, that you had never heard of such a thing, then I would have explained myself. Then perhaps you would have enjoyed the experience more, as had been the purpose of the gift.”_ _

__Susan glanced up, seeing that he had yet to cease staring at her with that heavy intensity. Allowing that much, “In that light, it wasn’t so bad. And...” shrugging, she admitted, “the massages were lovely.”_ _

__Promptly, and she should have guessed he’d press, “And I have let you pick things out for yourself, yes?”_ _

__She could roll her eyes at him, but thought better of it, “I fail to see your point, that going outside is beneficial to me somehow. A massage or two, a trinket or three, do not make a strong argument for going outside when weighed against everything else.”_ _

__A muscle ticced in his jaw, and she figured his anger was building, “I have rewarded you for good behaviour, I have shown that you are better off with me than with another. You have given me your view on these matters, so I give you mine. You have been shown that I will keep you in luxury, fine goods, I have given you many things already in such a short time, and there will be more, I have done things for you -”_ _

__The absurdity and delusion, the gall of the man! “You’ve done many things for _yourself_.”_ _

__“Yes, and I have saved you, something which I did not have to do,” pained irritation settling over his features. “Saved you, shielded you, and when it was dangerous for more than just myself to do so, I protected you when it would have been to my benefit to be rid of you. Those were most certainly not done for myself, nor for the men in my employ, under my care. You benefit from those things far more greatly than I do. And now, I seek to offer you something to please you that you appear to desire, and you spurn it?”_ _

__Studying him long and hard for several moments, Susan asked, “Your offers come with strings attached. Everything costs with you, so I’d like to know straightaway before making a decision, what that cost is before accepting anything you hold out.”_ _

__That caught him off guard, and it showed, “There are no conditions.”_ _

__“That’s a crock, and you know it,” nose crinkling, she would poke him with an accusing finger but he still held her hand. “Tell me what I have to do for the privilege of going outside. I’ll know right now if I’m willing to pay your prices for a bit of human decency, a bit of freedom of movement. Do I go out there, and then have your men line up to have their way with me? If I’m to suffer being a piece of property, and your slattern, that’s bad enough, but I’ll not be passed around like a chamberpot to be used by one and all. So, if I’ve a choice, I’ll sit right here and die of boredom.”_ _

__Like a gape mouthed fish, jaw hanging open to snap closed a handful of times, before finally, eyes dark and hard, every line grim, “You are _not_ for the crew. Any who dares lay a hand upon you, will be relieved of it. I will keelhaul the man or Beast as what thinks to touch you. If someone so much as gets too close, they shall be regretting it, Kitten. I have no tolerance for those who overstep and seek to toy with what belongs to me, without leave to do so. And they most certainly will _not_ have that permission when it comes to you.” _ _

__Surprised by the ferocity of the low spoken words, Susan was wondering which version of an angry Caspian was worse. The one half mad with rage and an animal, or the frozen violence and sinister calculation of a man entirely aware of what he was doing and plotting out each bit of harm he would dole out. It was not an attractive trait, even when the intense gaze refocused, softening on her - what did it matter that the anger and threats weren’t aimed at her at all, but at any who would try to harm her. It was the possessive sort of ‘protection’ of an object...which is what she had become, or at least was in this place._ _

__Attempting to diffuse the images he painted, “Fine, so I’m not for them. What’s the cost for my outing?”_ _

__“If you must tie to it a cost - then it is the same for anything, good behaviour,” shaking his head, saying it like it should be obvious._ _

__Back to square one, Susan didn’t _know_ what good behaviour was. What if she broke some rule she hadn’t thought to ask about, or that he hadn’t thought to inform her of? Not wanting to go over it all again, though, she sighed, “In that case, fine, let’s go.”_ _

__As she had begun to scramble from the bed, Caspian rose with her, “You are yet overdressed for it.”_ _

__His pet scowled up at him, freezing in place, “I beg your pardon? It’s not as though I have much of a wardrobe to choose from, Caspian, and what little there is of it, covers about the same.” Her scowl deepened when he quirked his brow at her, “And no, I’m _not_ going out there in the altogether, either!”_ _

__Caspian couldn’t help a laugh at the idea, turning his back to rummage for the scarf he’d purchased her the other day, “Remove your dress.”_ _

__“Once again, I beg your pardon! If I’m not wearing this dress, or my other, very similar in coverage, ones, then that leaves nudity or your own clothes, which I’ll have you know, don’t fit me, even if you were to allow me to wear them anyway!” shocked to fighting him, and Caspian did his best to not laugh at her again, it only riled her up further._ _

__“Off with the dress, Kitten, now,” he told her once more, tone brooking no further argument. She complied with obvious reluctance, which he ignored, falling to a squat, and began fashioning a loincloth from the scarf._ _

__Once finished, “Umn...isn’t there more?” her hands hovering over her bosom._ _

__“I wish you to gain a bit of sun, it is good for you,” he supplied with a shrug. “You are perfectly well covered for that. None will touch you, and if any are looking at you, then they are not working hard enough, and that too will be remedied. Now, enough, we have dickered more than is sane, and I will tolerate no more.”_ _

__\---_ _

__Susan rested in the shade, dozing, still fighting for mental balance and footing. She was afraid of tomorrow, and so, did the only thing she could do about it - which was nothing, and try not to think about it too hard. The deck, the fresh air, the sun, it _was_ nice, so she let herself drift in and out of sleep. At some point there came a shadow, darker, heavier cast over her than the awning that was stretched between a barrel and the mast, and she woke up quickly._ _

__Caspian wasn’t wearing much more than her, his shirt discarded, his pants legs rolled up high, and barefoot as he fell to a squat, shifting from that quickly to be seated, a tray set down between them on the blanket. More fruit, but also some kind of beans, sardines or other small fish, were in those terracotta bowl-plates that were standard as far as she could tell. Beside it all, a teapot with a spout wafting steam lazily, and two mugs._ _

__Having sat up herself, drawing her knees in close, she waited, wondering what was next, staring at him, just as he was staring at her. Seemed to be the local pastime - staring at people, watching their every move._ _

__“The breeze is pleasant,” he said, and since she wasn’t certain if it was an invitation for conversation, or simple statement, she opted to continue playing it safe and didn’t reply. The tray was looked at, then back up at her, quizzically, “Is the food not appetizing?”_ _

__Sparing it another lookover, she shrugged, “It’s fine.”_ _

__“Then are you not hungry?” brow furrowing as he poured tea in both their mugs, and picked his up, blowing on it gingerly a few times before taking a drink._ _

__Shrugging, Susan continued examining him. Clinically, she supposed he was handsome, definitely not like the boys back home. For starters, he had beautiful teeth, straight and pearl white, bright enough to blind. Few back home where lucky enough for that, complex dental work was hard to come by, since most dentists had been drafted for the war effort. And his, his glowed in his dusky caramel skin. It was his eyes that were so strange, so outlandish, they were alternately dark melted chocolate, or a pair of black abysses, in both cases, finding where pupil and iris began and ended, was difficult, if not outright impossible. In profile, it looked like his nose had been broken a few times, but been set fairly straight so it healed mostly proper and really, he was both unremarkable and hypnotic. Then there was his mouth, a mix of full and narrow at once, all of it very expressive. A few birthmarks and one mole, graced his face, tiny little dots that were darker, bolder, than freckles, but didn’t look out of place either. There was even a scar or two, one beneath the outer corner of his left eye, and another above his right eyebrow...and that was something repeated everywhere on all the skin he had on display. Scars and birthmarks, a roadmap of the former, and a starchart of the latter._ _

__Dark haired head cocking to the side, “You should eat.”_ _

__Sighing since he was being persistent, Susan selected an apricot, chewing it halfheartedly. If she didn’t do as he said, he’d find some way to force her one way or another._ _

__Caspian found himself sighing as well, giving up, mentally shrugging, he couldn’t make her eat if she wasn’t willing. At least, come dinnertime, she would be hungry. Giving up on the present moment, he rose, holding a hand out to her, which she reluctantly took. Once he saw her in proper, full light, and how pink her chest and legs had become, he shook his head. It wasn’t a burn, but it was more than she should have all in one sitting._ _

__Sucking his teeth, “Too much sun for you, best we take care of this before it turns into a burn.”_ _

__Over his shoulder, or, more like around his side, since he towered over her, Susan saw his crew bustling around, and she crossed her arms over her chest. She still didn’t quite believe he didn’t intend to throw her to his crew at some point, now or later, and she didn’t like the idea of them seeing what their captain was keeping all to himself. But he was taking her hand, tugging her along, and she couldn’t keep her chest covered without drawing attention with awkward movements to her bared breasts, so opted to keep close and tight, right in his shadow as he took her back to his cabin._ _

__Caspian rummaged for his healing salve while Kitten waited behind him, and he could feel her warmth there. Perhaps it was progress. Or perhaps she simply was feeling the sting of a touch too much sun and wanted the relief the balm would bring her. In any event, she was still close when he found the deep, thick blue glass jar, the lid set aside quickly as he hooked a foot out to grab the chair and have a seat for the best angle on applying the coconut oil, cocoa butter, and aloe rich cream to her delicate flesh._ _

__Susan gave a start as the initial shock of chill spread over her skin, and she looked up to see Caspian staring at her. Always staring. Always watching. Smooth passes of his long boned hands over where she was tender, thorough, but also a caress, gradually turning into fondling massage, making Susan squirm under the scrutiny. A sharp knock on the cabin’s door broke her from her trance, and Caspian growled, jar still in hand, as he went to answer it. Low words she couldn’t hear, and then Caspian was returning long enough to set the jar down, expression dark._ _

__Pausing at the door, he levelled a finger at her, “I do not wish a repeat of earlier, so you will remain here. Is that understood?”_ _

__

__Nodding, “Yes.”_ _

__\---_ _

__Making his way to the main deck, Caspian wondered at what his men were arguing over that was so important as to drag him from the tranquil moment he had been having. Close enough to hear what was being said, the quarrel was enough to make his blood boil if he allowed it. His eyes flashed with menace at those before him, pressing them aside as he moved deeper into the center of the argument._ _

__“I say the rest of us should have a go at her! Why should the Captain be the only one with company and some fun?”_ _

__

__Trumpkin was staunch, standing firm, voice upraised, “Captain’s what said as she’s not for anyone else!”_ _

__A sharp snort of derision, “Aye, he may have said such to the likes of you, as his second, but he forgot to announce it to the rest of us!” The stocky Galman crossed his arms, staring down at the Red Dwarf, “So, what are you going to do about it?”_ _

__Finally entering the rough circular gap holding Silas and Trumpkin, “I know exactly what _I_ intend to do about it!” _ _

__The Galman sailor Caspian had taken on some point in the last couple years, jumped and turned like a cat on a roof covered in hot shingles, anger, shock, and was that a dose of fear? - crossed his features. _Good, let him be scared.__ _

__Standing scant inches from him, face twisted in a snarl, Caspian stared him down, “She is not yours to be concerned with. Any man or Beast who lays a hand on her, will have it cut off.” Enunciating, biting each word, “Am I in any way unclear?”_ _

__Showing weakness was like spilling bloody chum in the water for sharks to scent, and the Galman knew that, so merely nodded, eyes narrow, “No, Sir.”_ _

__“Good,” satisfied with his crewman’s response, Caspian turned on his heel, returning to his quarters._ _

__\---_ _

__Kitten was curled up in his chair, waiting, her skin pink, and still in need of further attentions. Caspian quickly resumed, lifting her up enough to sit on his desk so that he could see to her legs before returning to the more...promising areas of her chest. Watching as her breath hitched now and again, Caspian hummed, drawing her down to him in his seat, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, his stroking of her flesh no longer about applying salve that had already long since been worked in many minutes ago. By his forebearers she could be responsive, and he couldn’t get enough of touching her. Hand trailing over the inside of her thigh, the other, curled around her back, up along her spine, Caspian moved to taste the column of her throat as she released a soft purr of pleasure._ _

__Unable to help it, Susan found herself enjoying Caspian’s touch, but it was his heavy gaze that was so difficult to bear. Seeking to squirm free of its weight was no use, not that that fact stopped her from trying. His eyes held her prisoner as he leaned in to leave an open-mouthed kiss to her other shoulder, then the top of her breast, there was no escape from his look, his neck arching up so that his thick, long tongue, could run up the line of her windpipe, she could feel those eyes, even if she momentarily couldn’t see them. Firm cupping over her bottom pinned her to his thigh she had been straddling, and Susan moaned, head falling back before rocking forward, knowing there was nowhere to hide, but still, unable to keep from doing her best, burrowing her face into the breadth of his shoulder...so, so futile, _So, so good...__ _

__A hand in her hair shattered the enjoyment that she had been unable to resist a moment before, and Susan jerked upright, stiff, eyes wide, frightened._ _

__Caspian groaned, trying to bring his pet’s head back towards him as he enjoyed the silky tangle of her hair, then blinked his vision clear of thick desire long enough to note her bearing. “Kitten?” Cupping the back of her head, fingers deep within her thick tresses, “What is it?”_ _

__She remained still, staring, watching, not knowing what she had done to anger him this time - she had accepted his ministrations, had even given herself over to them, not that her resistance would have done anything to deter him. Besides, he had started slow and she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it had gone from him simply smearing salve over her to something more, but that moment was fuzzy, slipping into a spiral of want. Susan didn’t know what she had done, had believed she was following his directives, his hungry urgings but -_ _

__His expression softened, understanding dawning, “You do not like how I touch your hair.”_ _

__Breathing shallow, rapid, posture rigid, “No-not anymore.”_ _

__Carefully extricating his hand from her hair, Caspian ran his palm over the mass, lightly, gently, “It is not a bad thing.” But she wouldn’t believe that right now, so he shifted his hand lower, under the chestnut fall, to the back of her neck, thumb caressing one side of the blushing alabaster that was the space where neck joined shoulder, his fingers spread on the opposite side, curling to cradle. “It will not be a bad thing, I will show you.”_ _

__Still petrified, the word forced free, “Al-alright.”_ _

__Moving to kiss her jaw, “Slowly.” Focusing his attentions over her, keeping his hands from the back of her head, from tangling in those spilled waves like they itched to, Caspian sought to once more build her fervor._ _

__The mouse before the cat, hypnotized, she watched as he leaned forward after long touches everywhere else, but there had come a pause, and she watched him watching her, watched him lean closer, felt his hand moving over her cheek after travelling up the side of her neck, and slowly, slowly, cupping her head, drawing her in close as he also came in. Those dark eyes remained focused, and Susan shook while that hand cupping her head began to massage her scalp, and he was coming in closer and closer and closer, until his mouth was on hers, his eyes hooding so that only a sliver of dark showed, slickness of tongue seeking entrance and she shyly responded. In a moment she forgot, forgot anything beyond the way he tasted, the way he felt, her own hands having found their way to him, to his shoulders, to his hair, holding him to her._ _

__Thick groan reverberating in her mouth, and she was dragged back as he settled fully back into the chair, pulling her to straddle him properly, her legs spread over his hips, and the hard ridge trapped between them. Mashed to his chest, a hand urging her to rock her hips, the kiss continuing, his hand still holding her head cupped and close to him, and Susan whimpered, gasping for broken air at the power of how blissful it felt. Rolling, rocking, only half paying attention to the encouragement of that hand on her hip, Susan continued until she flew apart from sensation._ _

__When she broke away from him every few moments, gasping for air, each time, Caspian was surprised at her boldness as she would return to kissing him - sometimes his mouth, sometimes his neck, it was not unlike when she was wanton from drink lowered inhibitions. It was different this time, she was aware, there was nothing to break down barriers of whatever skewed propriety she adhered to. Up until now, it had been him who would initiate that hunt, would maintain it, but this time it was all her, the rolling of her grinding hips was her seeking hunger. It was him breaking free then, seeking air, a moment to regain his wits, and it was her diving in, grabbing his head, making him open to her dancing tongue while she moaned frantically, the fabric covering her cunt sopping wet enough that it had worked its way through the material of his pants. When at last he thought he could take no more, that certainly he would go mad, that surely she must be done by now, a sharper, deeper cry was in his mouth as they shared breath, her whole body spasming in his arms until she was wrung limp._ _

__Breathing ragged, Caspian let her lean back against the edge of the desk and ran a hand down her abdomen to cup her pussy, admiring how wet she was, “Good, very good, Kitten.” Licking the beaded sweat from the top of his lip, applying more pressure, rocking his hand up, “The piercings add to it for you?”_ _

__Susan went pink - or, more pink, all the blood flushed to the surface no longer there from exertion, and she looked down, looked away, but instead of finding freedom there, all she saw was the line of his arm and where it led, down to his hand, the hand she was pressing against as he rubbed firmly. She could _feel_ exactly what he was doing, and she wasn’t discouraging it at all, it felt too good, and she pressed and wiggled closer, panting, a nod coming unbidden just as a mewl of delight broke free of her. _ _

__That admission would cost her later, but at the moment, it gained her Caspian seeking her mouth out, and her head filled up with his scent. _He smells so, so good...__ _

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, there's lots of things different about this one, and I condensed much of chapters one and two together. I just couldn't think of any way to do them without it bogging down terribly and wished to get on with the plot. When PotS was originally being worked on, we didn't know any of the Calormene lore, and while I know lots now, I personally am choosing to disregard it. I mean, it's an AU after all, right? So, massive overhaul on that. Also, am fiddling around with a different Narnia map, as the more official ones are utter crap for my purposes.


End file.
